All You Need Is Love
by Peaches the First
Summary: Formerly Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. Snapshots of the lives of the grown up Peanuts from the 1960's onward. Rated for drug use and references to sexuality.
1. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

A/N: To make the dates fit, I'm going by the characters being born in 1949. This is just a little story that hit me since I've started this new obsession with the 1960's. I own nothing but the concept for the story. Enjoy.

_June 1967_

"Elvis and Priscilla got married," she remarks casually, brushing a strand of long black hair out of her face. Her green eyes squint as the sun beats down on her from the cloudless sky.

We are a few miles outside of town, my car parked in an old field which had been a pasture once, but was now commonly used for parties by local youth. We had originally come out here to get high, but had since decided to save my weed for a later date. For now, we smoke hand rolled cigarettes under the endless blue sky, dusty gold wheat fields and pasture land stretching far into the horizon around us.

"I hadn't heard," I comment dryly after letting out a smoke-tinged breath. "I don't pay much attention to Elvis since he tried to act." I flick my own longish blond hair out of my face with a toss of my head.

"Last month, Violet told me," she asserts, not minding my sarcasm. She brings her own cigarette to her full red lips and takes a long draw, leaning back onto the hood of my car as she does. Behind my dark glasses, I let my eyes survey her long, lean legs covered in tight faded denim, her softly curved hips and flat, trim stomach, her lightly browned skin that shimmers under the summer sun, her rounded breasts that hang braless under her thin, sleeveless blue blouse.

She doesn't wear bras. Some feminist trip I'm sure she explained to me at some point.

She lowers her cigarette, flicking away the grey ashes as she looks at me. "I thought you said the great musicians couldn't marry."

It's actually more of an accusation than a question.

"They won't last a year," I murmur, tearing my eyes from her body. "Elvis is on his way out ever since the Beatles came on the scene." I take another drag of my smoke. "You heard their new album, Sargent Pepper's?" She nods her head unenthusiastically. "Pretty trippy, huh?" Again she nods. I drop my cigarette and crush it under the heel of my shoe. I move to face her, resting my hands on her hips, leaning in and kissing her exposed collarbone. "You like that song, Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds?" She remains stiff and unmoving, save for the last draw of her smoke.

"Hmm." A non-committal utterance accompanied by a long exhale of tobacco smoke.

"Want me to learn it for you?"

"Hmm."

This is going nowhere.

"What's got you in a knot today?" I ask softly as she flicks the butt of her cigarette away.

Silence.

"You know it's hard to make love to a statue," I comment, lewdly teasing her. She shrugs away my affection, refusing to look me in the eye.

"They're gonna draft you," Lucy murmurs.

"Lu-"

"You're gonna have to go to Nam."

"I won't go," I sigh with a frown. This is not what I was expecting today.

"You'll go to jail."

"Not if I'm in university."

"And if you don't get accepted?" she asks, staring me in the eye.

"I will..."

"What _if_, though?"

"I'll go to Canada."

"You'll never be allowed to come back to the States."

"What a loss that'll be," I smirk with a droplet of sarcasm. Again, she ignores my satire.

"Schroeder..." she says with the slightest hint of exasperation.

"Come on, Lu," I sigh, " we've had this discussion before."

I'd taken to calling her Lu since we'd started seeing each other over a year ago. No one else could get away with it, which is why I loved it. It was mine. My own private name for my own private muse. No one else could ever have her the way I did.

She turns from me now, arms folded under her breasts, taking a few steps away from me. I can tell she's on the verge of tears, and probably doesn't want me to see. She likes to pretend she's invincible.

"This is about Franklin, isn't it?" I ask quietly. I see her shoulders shudder and know I'm right.

Franklin, a year our senior, had joined the military the day after his 19th birthday in February. He had been an army brat growing up, and it seemed only natural that he should follow in his father's footsteps. Though our opinions differed, we'd remained friends. He'd call me Hippy, I'd call him Flat-top. During his weekend leave, we'd do much the same as we'd done in the past. We'd play cards with the guys, drink our parents beer, goof off like normal teenagers.

In April, barely a week out of his initial training, he had been sent to Vietnam. It had been hard to see him leave. Violet had been crying ever since, hardly making it through his letters, terrified his mother would call to tell her of his death on the floors of the jungle.

Violet and Franklin's relationship had shaken up the town. For the past two years, the two had put up with a never-ending barrage of racist bullshit from all sides, most notably Violet's mother, though that had started to fade after the first year. School administrators didn't allow the two to meet on school grounds (not that they'd ever attended the same school, and some store owners refused to let them into their businesses together. The two refused, however, to let it come between them, and vowed to get married and move out of town as soon as Violet was finished high school. However that was before Franklin was sent to Vietnam. Violet waited day after day for his tour of duty to end so they could start somewhere new, away from the small mindedness of our little pissant corner of the country.

I want to ask Lucy so badly if she'll run away with me as well, after Franklin and Violet's wedding, whenever it happens. I'd love to take her to New York City, or to New Orleans, or to San Francisco. Anywhere at all will do nicely. To me, it doesn't matter if we're ever married. Just being with her is enough. Sometimes I think that just loving Lucy - to _be_ loved by Lucy - is all I'll ever need...

"I don't want to be like Violet," I hear Lucy whisper, and I am shaken out of my thoughts. "I can't wait around for news that you're dead." I say nothing, but approach and wrap my arms around her thin waist from behind. I rest my head on her shoulder and nuzzle her neck softly.

"I won't leave you," I promise in a whisper. My breath grazes her ear and, though it's hot out, I feel the goose bumps rise on her bare midriff. "Besides," I continue, "we have a while before conscription even starts to apply to me. Maybe the war will be over by then."

"Seven months," she mutters, leaning slightly against me. We stand like that for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything. Her skin is cool and soft. A refreshment from the summer sun. She smells like Baby Soft perfume and tobacco. I feel her sigh softly.

"You okay?"

"I love you, you know." She states bluntly. "You're impossible, but I do."

Though she can't see it, I grin. Later, when I'm alone, I'll listen to Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds over and over again, sorting out the music in my head so I'll be able to play it for her on the piano. I'll lay on my bed with my eyes closed, remembering the feeling of her laying there with me, reminding myself of how loving Lucy makes me feel like I'm in that boat on the river, taking in the marmalade skies.

"I love you, too, Lu."


	2. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: I seem to be finding inspiration in the Beatles lately :). I got this scene in my head the other night and just couldn't turn it off. Still going by the characters being born in 1949. If I write more chapters (I have a feeling I will) they'll follow this time line too. Reviews would be really great! Let me know if there are any errors in spelling, and maybe I'll stop being lazy and fix them. BTW, I suggest listening to the songs in the chapter titles while you read them (either the originals, the Love remakes, or the Across the Universe soundtrack, all are great!). Whatever the title is was my inspiration for the chapter!

Don't Panic: Thanks so much for the review! I guess this answers the question of more chapters!

_While My Guitar Gently Weeps_

_October 1969_

Her small body was curled into a fetal position. She was shaking uncontrollably, despite the thick down blanket she had pulled tightly around herself in sleep, and the beads of sweat rolling off of her face. Her tawny blond hair was matted thickly to her forehead. I reached out and gently pushed the damp strands away from her pale, sallow face, brushing my thumb across her cheek as I did.

"Sally," I murmured as I surveyed her condition, "what have you done to yourself?"

I had awoken with a start nearly three hours earlier. I had heard the front door open, and after a few moments of courage-building, I'd crept out of my bedroom and into the darkness of my apartment, armed with a baseball bat. I'd been expecting something much more sinister than an 18 year old girl.

"Sally?" I'd said, surprised to see her in my living room at nearly one in the morning.

She'd been sitting on the floor in front of my couch, bathed in the glow of The Tonight Show on my small black and white television. Her knees had been pulled up to her chest, arms hugging them tightly, and she'd been rocking back and forth with an empty look on her face. I'd edged forward slightly.

"Sally?" I'd repeated, a little louder than before. Her face had snapped toward me in shock.

"Linus?" she'd said, as though she was surprised to see me there. Or even as though she'd had a hard time recognizing me. She'd paused, looking as though she was trying to string together words. "W-where's Ch-Charlie?"

Her voice was loose and scratchy, and she was shaking. It was no wonder, she was wearing only a pair of thin jeans and a ratty tee shirt.

"He's not here," I'd told her. "What are you doing here at this hour? How'd you get in?" She hadn't told us she planned on coming into the city this weekend.

"I n-need, Charlie," she said, a sob choking her words. Dropping the bat, I made my way to where she was and knelt next to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. I almost pulled away. She was so cold. Something was very wrong.

"What happened, Sal?"

"I t-took t-too much," she sputtered. I looked into her eyes and saw her pupils were huge. I started to panic a little. Too much?

"Too much what?" I demanded anxiously, but she shook her head, pressed her lips together, and began to sob into her knees. "Sally, you have to tell me what you took!" I'd repeated, but to no avail.

"I'm cold, Linus," she stammered. "I'm s-so cold." Tentatively, she'd touched a finger to her mouth. "I c-can't feel my lips," she stated.

Looking closer, I saw there had been a bluish tint to them.

Seeing no other alternative, I'd scooped her into my arms carefully, one arm under the crook of her knees, the other cradling her back, and carried her into her brother's room.

Since then she'd gone through a short stage of hallucination before lapsing into tremors, finally to lay relatively still under the comforter I had provided her with. I had been terrified, never having dealt with this kind of crisis before. I now sat on the edge of Charlie's bed tentatively in the dimly lit room, not sure what to expect next.

A million questions ran through my head. What had she taken? Was she going to be okay? Should I call the hospital, or would that only cause more trouble? Why did this have to happen the only weekend Charlie wasn't in town?

Charlie was in New York for the weekend. A group of his classmates had decided to take a short trip from where we lived and attended school in Providence to attend a lecture by some psychologist Charlie idolized. He was in his third year of the psychology program at Brown.

I myself was in my second year as an English major, with a minor in religious studies. We'd gotten our apartment together last August. Providence was only an hour from our hometown; close enough to go home once every few weekends to visit our parents, do laundry, and see our friends, while far enough away to live freely.

Sally had been coming to stay with us much more frequently since June. She had stayed with us only a few times before that, mainly when she had something planned in the city like a concert or something. However, she had been showing up nearly every weekend for the five months. Usually it was because of an argument with her mother, or something along those lines. She had a strained relationship with her parents, whom she still lived with back home. They didn't approve of her "wild ways."

I couldn't blame them. When she was here, we hardly saw her, and when we did, she looked like hell. I knew that she was strung out, but Charlie didn't like believing his little sister was into that scene. He turned a blind eye while I layed awake most nights listening for her to stumble in. To her credit, she always made it in before dawn, and called us the few times she didn't make it back to our place.

She suddenly called out something in her sleep, and I was afraid the delirium was back for another round. I breathed a sigh of relief when she remained quiet, grateful that the effects of whatever she'd consumed were starting to wear off, even though I knew she was far from out of the woods. Her breathing was steady, but still shallow.

I knew Sally had started using drugs last year, usually limiting herself to a few hits a month of pot that she managed to weasel off of Schroder. He had always limited how much he let her have. When he and Lucy had left town, she'd found another source, and her hit count had grown over the weeks until she was using once or twice a day just to cope. Since then, I doubted she'd had many sober days.

Until now, though, I'd had no idea she'd gotten into the harder drugs. I, myself, had smoked up a couple of times with Schroder, and had taken a hit of something hard I couldn't recall the name of at a pretty wild party over the summer... but oh, God, how had Sally come to this point? What had happened to the sweet little blonde girl who had driven me crazy with her pet names and declarations of love? The soft blue eyes I'd grown up loving were now grey and glassy, and her once soft blond hair was now thin and brassy.

I chuckled a little at myself. "Love." When I was a boy, that word had meant little, but I'd always known that I loved Sally in a way that was much bigger than the word itself. I still wondered sometimes what would happen if I ever let her have her way, but I was always terrified of Charlie's reaction.

"Linus," she muttered, uncurling slowly from her fetal position. "Linus?"

"I'm here, Sally," I assured her, taking her clammy hand. She squeezed it lightly. "Are you okay?"

"Thirsty," she croaked, and I got up, returning in a moment with the biggest glass we had. She propped herself up unsteadily on her elbows and drank the liquid greedily, some of it escaping in the form of tendrils spilling down her chin. She just about collapsed back onto the pillow when I took the now empty glass.

"Sal..." I started, unsure of what there was to say. "What... happened?" She stared at me weakly, her eyes fluttering slightly.

"I don't know," she slurred. "I was with some friends. When took... something. And then I was here."

I sighed with frustration, suddenly irate. I wished I'd known who she'd been with so I could have someone to yell at.

"Don't... be mad," she meekly requested as I layed the empty glass on the bedside table with some force. I clenched my jaw, unsure of whether I was about to yell or cry.

"Sally, you know you could have died, right?" I snapped. I hadn't meant to, but there were so many emotions running through my body I had to force myself not to shake. "Literally died."

Her eyes welled with sleepy tears. She wasn't shaking as much now, nor was she sweating anymore. Instead looking simply exhausted, clutching the blanket protectively. I sighed again.

"Don't cry, Sal," I said, softer this time, looking away from her momentarily. "You just scared the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, tears tracing her right cheek lightly. I reached out and brushed them off, happy to feel a little more warmth being emitted from her skin.

"Get some sleep, Sally," I said. "I'm right here."

"You won't leave?" she asked, sounding like a child afraid of the dark.

"I won't leave," I promised. To prove my case, I layed down next to her. She promptly, and unexpectedly, turned her body toward me, curling into my chest. I found myself almost instinctually wrapping my arms around her protectively.

"Linus?" she muttered sleepily after a few minutes of silence.

"Hmm?" I moaned, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

"Thank you."

I smiled, though she couldn't see it, and held her a little tighter.

"Go to sleep, Sally," I said with some effort.

But she already was.


	3. Some Other Guy

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: Those Peanuts are determined little fellas when it comes to the Beatles! Another idea that wouldn't leave me alone. It's much longer than the first two chapters, I've been writing it since I posted the last chapter. I just couldn't stop writing, such a fun character to get into! Hope it turned out okay. If there seems to be alot of explanation and detail about other characters in this chapter, it's all relavant for chapters to come, and isn't meant to drone on. It really fits the narrating characters personality to notice things around them more than others. That's my rant, enjoy!

Don't Panic: Thanks for another review! It's really appreciated! And I envy that you got to see Across the Universe! It didn't come to theatres where I live, so I went and got the soundtrack to tie me over until it comes out on dvd. Haha, I hadn't even realized the pun in Charlie going to Brown! Glad someone picked it up, I'll seem a lot funnier than I actually am:P

TehFluff: Thanks very much for the review! And the Author Alert add, and the Fave Stories Add, lol. It's nice to feel loved! As promised, new chapter! Enjoy!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Some Other Guy_

_June, 1970_

'I don't want to be here.'

That was my first thought as I pulled into the church parking lot. There was nothing I would have liked more than to put the car in reverse and drive back to Providence. I didn't know why I had agreed to this.

Well, Linus had talked me into it to some degree. He'd convinced me that having the old gang together under such happy circumstances would be nice. But now, all I could think of was watching the woman I'd grown to love walking down the aisle to marry another man.

Had I honestly thought that somehow she could have loved me? Like she would stop waiting for him and realize I loved her? How stupid was I?

I parked my old Ford next to one of only a few other vehicles in the lot, a green VW van. I was early by nearly 45 minutes, and there looked to be very few people here yet. I figured that the wedding party was already inside, waiting for the guests to arrive.

I leaned my head onto the steering wheel. I _would_ do this. And I would do it with a smile. Even if it killed me.

Which it might.

I climbed out of my car after composing myself, adjusting my tie and straightening my jacket. If I could sit through the service and make a brief appearance at the reception, I could go back to my parents house and get out of town tomorrow morning before anyone was even over their hangover. No one would even miss me.

No one ever did.

"Charlie! Over here!" I squinted as I surveyed the parking lot, shading my eyes with my hand. They had certainly picked a beautiful day. I thought grudgingly that it would have been much more fitting to have been raining.

But perhaps I was being melodramatic.

I finally spotted a skinny blonde man waving at me from the door of the church. I mustered as much of a smile as I could and made my way over to him.

"How's it going, Schroder?" I asked as cheerfully as I could summon as he pulled me into a hug and clapped me on the back as we met on the front step.

"It's goin' man," he said, flashing a winning smile as we parted. "I'm so stoked for today! It's great everyone made it in."

"Yeah, it'll be good to see everyone," I lied. Schroder either didn't notice the slump in my voice or pretended not to. I had never quite been able to tell with him. Either way he continued to talk enthusiastically. He looked good. His hair was still bright blond, now shaggy, brushing the nape of his neck, and he'd grown out a goatee. He looked healthy from what I could tell.

Schroder had gotten into the drug scene before most of his peers. He was the first to smoke, the first to smoke up, the first to drink, the first to take hits and do lines. It sort of came with the territory of being a genius and needing a way to cope with life. Some of us had been worried that he would fall into the rougher scene and turn out like too many others like himself who burnt out before their time. But he'd turned out to be pretty mature about the whole thing, never attempting to take more than he knew he needed, never doing it alone, trying not to do it habitually. I was proud of him for that.

"It's just - it's about time they tied the knot, you know?" he was saying. "They were apart for, what, two and a half years? And with all the bullshit they have to put up with when they _are_ together? You know it took six months for them to find a priest to do the ceremony?"

"You don't say?" I said quietly, desperate for a topic change. "Where's Lucy?"

"With Violet, of course," Schroder said. "The Maid of Honour and all." He grinned slyly. "I figure after all this, I won't be able to make any more excuses not to marry her."

"You old dog," I smirked. "How are you two liking New York?"

Lucy and Schroder had moved to New York a year and a half earlier. Schroder had been accepted to The Juilliard School on a music scholarship, and Lucy had started a journalism degree at NYU. From what Linus had told me when he'd visited, they were living in a second storey walk up in Greenwich Village. Lucy worked nights at a bar three times a week. Schroder worked at a record store twice a week. They had a cat, lovingly dubbed Ludwig, and an old piano in one corner of their livingroom.

Mostly, Linus told me that Lucy finally seemed to be happy.

Lucy hadn't been a happy child, or teenager for that matter. It was evident in the way she drew attention to herself as a bully and being exceedingly outspoken. She'd always seemed to be too much for our hometown. Too important, too feminist, too much of a dreamer. I'd always believed she belonged somewhere bigger; somewhere better. I was glad to know she was finally somewhere she could be content.

Schroder had always seemed to be the type who could be content anywhere. Actually, I suspected he _could_ be happy anywhere, but only as long as Lucy was there with him. She was his muse, after all.

"Love it, man," he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket."We're totally in our element, you know?" He offered up the pack, which I declined. He lit one and took a long drag. "You should come visit us some time."

"Maybe this winter, after exams," I relented. We stood looking out over the empty lot in silence. Schroder smoked. I sulked.

"So," he finally said, an unsettling nonchalant tone in his voice. "How are you taking this?" He didn't look at me. He kept his eyes trained toward a house across the street where a couple of kids were playing in the front yard. "And don't tell me you don't know what I mean," he warned before I had a chance to do just that.

I sighed as he glanced toward me briefly. Of course he had picked up on my mood. I was transparent.

"To tell you the truth," he continued, "I'm impressed you came at all."

"Thanks," I muttered and sighed again. "I don't know, Schroder. This is all so surreal. I just don't know how I am. Nothing seems to make sense anymore."

"Was there ever a time when everything made sense?" he smirked. "Man, you've never been the happiest guy in the world, but this is brutal by anyone's standards." He took a long final drag of his cigarette and flicked it down, crushing it with the heel of his polished black dress shoe. "I dunno how I'd survive if Lucy ran off with one of my friends."

"Yeah, but Lucy has always loved you," I pointed out. "Violet has barely ever known I existed."

"She gave you your first Valentine, didn't she?" Schroder said cheekily. I blushed, deciding not to tell him I still had that tucked away somewhere in my apartment. "Come on, man, you guys were great friends all through high school. Even Franklin sometimes worried she'd leave him for you."

Before I could offer up a rebuttal, a familiar blue sedan pulled into the parking lot and parked next to my car. A moment later Linus climbed out of the driver's seat, looking quite dapper in his grey suit. He waved briefly at us and jogged around to the other side of the car, opening the door for my pretty, if slightly tired looking, little sister. I smiled proudly as they made their way hand in hand to where we stood.

After the incident last October when I was out of town, Linus had driven her back here the next morning and convinced her to tell our parents about the drugs. They were, of course, furious, and kicked her out for "bringing that filth into their house." So she had packed up her things and Linus had driven her right back to Providence to stay with us. I had been furious when she confessed the full extent of her use to me, but I couldn't find it in me to turn her out. It took a few weeks of screaming, crying, slammed doors and another bad trip on Sally's part to finally get her to enroll in a rehab program in the city. It was Linus who finally convinced her to go. Our parents relented to pay for it, so at least they hadn't given up on her completely. After a relapse two months into her program, she had managed to stay clean for the past six months. I was as proud as hell of her.

She and Linus had become a couple four months ago. He had asked my permission, which still cracked me up. Like I hadn't seen it coming for years. My response had been only "what took you so long?"

"Hello, big brother," she smiled upon approaching Schroder and I. "Hello Schroder."

"How are you doing, Sal?" he asked earnestly as they hugged briefly. He had felt responsible for her drug use when he found out how far it had gone, having supplyed her with her first taste of weed, until she had told him that there was no one she could blame but herself for how it had turned out.

"I'm wonderful," she smiled at him as they parted. "How are you?"

She really did look wonderful, considering what she had gone through in the past eight months. She was a little too thin, maybe, and a little pale, but much healthier than even a few weeks ago. Her blond hair was pulled into a pile of curls on top of her head, a few tendrils falling down to frame her face. Her dress was simple; light blue and sleeveless, the hem brushing at her knees.

"Great, hon," he smiled, then turned to Linus. "What's the word on the bride?"

"Lucy said she's bouncing off the walls," Linus grinned. "'Somewhere in between excitement and psychosis' were her exact words. They'll be on their way in the next half hour or so." His expression turned serious. "How's Franklin?" he asked in a low voice.

"He's okay today," Schroder replied in an equally low voice. "No incidents. I think he'll have a good day."

I looked at Linus and Schroder quizzically. Catching my look, Linus checked to be sure no one from inside the church was around.

"You don't know this, Charlie," Linus started, as Schroder looked hesitant, "but Franklin hasn't been quite the same since he got back from Nam." He looked at Schroder, who bit his lip. "Apparently it's the same with a lot of the boys who get back. He has his good days, where he seems just like the old Franklin. You'd never know anything was wrong."

"But Violet told Lucy he has really trippy nightmares, wakes up screaming, like he's back in Nam again," Schroder said softly, but with evident emotion in his voice. "Some days he just can't concentrate on anything, gets frustrated really easily, gets flashbacks if he hears loud noises. Stuff like that. You remember how jumpy his dad used to get, how we always had to be real quiet when we hung out at his place when his old man was home? Same deal." Schroder looked angry now. "A friend of mine at school put it best. You can't send a man to war, train him to kill, have him watch his buddies die, turn him into an animal, then expect him to be human when he comes home. It's just not fucking fair."

"It's okay, Schroder," Sally said soothingly. "No one likes that this happened to him, but he and Violet love each other. They'll get through it one day at a time." Schroder looked at her with surprise, but nodded. "Why don't we go inside?" she suggested sweetly. "I want to get good seats to take pictures!" She grabbed Linus' hand and pulled him into the church. Schroder and I walked in a moment behind them, but not before Schroder pulled me aside.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked me. I forced a smile and nodded. He studied my face for a moment, then turned to walk inside without a word. I knew he didn't believe me.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was a short ceremony, but beautiful, I admit. Violet was stunning. Her dress was ivory white, strapless, and hung straight to just sweep the floor, no embroidery or embellishments. Her dark brown hair was long and hung straight down her back, and instead of a veil, a little wreath of tiny purple flowers crowned her head. She had beamed at Franklin lovingly. He had been transfixed by her, his eyes never leaving her from the moment she entered the church to walk the aisle.

Lucy had cried, of course. Both she and Violet's little sister, Lily, in their strapless purple bridesmaid dresses that mirrored Violet's. They looked beautiful. I wondered why Patty Shermin hadn't been a bridesmaid, or even shown up to the ceremony, she, Lucy and Violet having been as thick as theives all up through school. I found out later that she was very against Violet marrying Franklin, and hadn't returned Violet's calls leading up to the wedding.

Schroder had spent the whole time looking at Lucy. Next to him, Rerun had fidgeted with his tie, loosening it in the heat. They had all taken off their jackets before approaching the alter, the June heat proving too much and the fans on the church ceiling doing nothing to relieve the congregation of 150 people.

The reception was held at a local hotel. The decorations were nice, the food was great, the music was live, and I was miserable. I had smiled as much as I could as I watched the first dance, and I had tried to be as light on my feet as possible when dancing with Lucy. Schroder kept giving me concerned looks, which made me feel guilty for being the only miserable person in the room.

After about an hour of standing at the bar, drinking and catching up with old friends, I started to feel a buzz. I tallied up how many drinks I'd had and realized it was significantly more than I usually did. I thought perhaps I should stop while I still had at least some control of myself.

I also thought to myself that I should congratulate Violet personally. She and Franklin had been surrounded by well wishers all night, but now Franklin had slipped off to talk to some family members, leaving Violet with a few of her girlfriends at the head table. Though part of me said it was a bad idea, I excused myself from talking to Linus and Marcie (who had been telling us about her participation in the protests at Berkley), and made my way over to where Violet sat giggling with Lucy and Lily conspiratorially.

"Hello, Violet," I smiled. She immediately stood and grabbed me into a hug. I couldn't help but enjoy it. I hugged her back.

"Oh, Charlie," she whispered in my ear, giving me goosebumps despite the heat. "I'm married!"

"Congratulations, Mrs Armstrong," I choked out as cheerfully as possible. She released me and stood back. I couldn't help but stare at her thin figure draped by the silky fabric of her gown. She was heartbreakingly beautiful.

"Charlie," Lucy said, swirling her champagne lazily in its glass. I wondered how many glasses she'd had already. Quite a few judging by her demeanor. "Would you happen to know the whereabouts of my youngest brother? Little Miss Lily here would like to ask him to dance." Violet's little sister blushed furiously and made a feeble swing to slap Lucy's arm. Lucy giggled.

"Last I saw, Rerun was at the buffet table," I said. Lucy grinned.

"Thank you, Charlie, you've been a great help," she said, and without another word made her way in that direction. Lily made a noise resembling a squeal and took off after the older girl, most likely in vain.

I turned my attention back to Violet, who beamed up at me, an unmistakable glow about her. I smiled softly at her and extended my hand.

"May I have a dance with the bride?" I asked, hopefully masking my pain well enough to seem charming. Violet grinned and took my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. We got stopped twice along the way by well-wishers but finally made it to the centre. From the side of the dance floor, Franklin smiled and made a slight cheer of acknowledgement with his glass as I took Violet's hand in mine and rested my other on her waist.

"You make a beautiful bride," I told her. She beamed.

I was in heaven for about 4 minutes. Violet smiled up at me and asked how school was going, where I was working, my new friends, what I would do after university. I had answered her as best as I could and tried to ask her questions about what she and Franklin had planned, but I just couldn't bare to know. I tried to remember that she wasn't mine, and she would never be mine.

But dammit, she smelled so good and felt so natural there in my arms.

The song ended, Violet was swept away by her husband, whose hand I shook before I made my way off the dance floor, grabbing a tall glass of champagne off of a tray a waiter was carrying and downing it with a grimace. Nothing spoiled the taste of champagne like unrequited love.

I put down the glass and made my way out of the ballroom and down the hall to the coat room.

Upon entering, I was confronted with the sight of two people entangled in each other on top of a pile of coats on the floor. I blinked a few times and realized with shock that it was Rerun and Lily. Rerun's shirt was unbuttoned, and Lily's top was fully exposed as the top of her strapless dress was in a bunch at her waist. She grabbed a coat on the floor and pulled it up to cover herself. They both wore terrified looks on their faces as I stopped dead in my tracks in the doorway. After processing the scene, I rolled my eyes.

"Have fun, kids," I muttered before yanking my coat off its hanger and closing the door behind me.

By the time I reached the front lobby, I heard the thunk of footsteps following me.

"Charlie?" I heard Schroder say, his voice laced with worry. "Are you okay?"

"Don't, man," I said. I could feel the effects of that last glass of champagne hitting me hard, making me feel dizzy. "I just can't stay here. I can't deal. I'm going home."

"You've been drinking Charlie," Schroder said, "I can't let you drive."

"So I'll walk," I snapped. I fished my keys out of my pocket and tossed them to Schroder before turning to leave.

"Look, man, let me drive you to your parents house," he said."I havn't been drinking. I'll drive your car and walk back."

I swayed angrily on my feet for a moment before relenting. I led him to my car, dropping angrily into the passenger seat and slamming the door. I didn't exactly know what I was angry at. Maybe it was the situation, or my drunkenness enhancing my mood, or Schroder's kindness making me feel guilty, or the fact that even Rerun could get laid while I was left alone. Either way, I was pissed.

"I don't blame you for leaving," Schroder said as he pulled my car onto the road. "And I'm not gonna say anything to anyone."

"Hmm," I grunted. We were silent for a moment. "Man, this is the worst day of my life," I started. "The girl I've been in love with since we were kids just got married to some other guy! And me and her... we'd make so much more sense than they do! It would be so much easier!"

God, I was an asshole.

"I know, man," Schroder said sympathetically.

"No you don't!" I snapped. "Lucy has loved you forever! You two were meant to be together, everyone knows that! But me..." I paused. He waited for me to continue. "No one's ever wanted me. I'm gonna be alone for the rest of my life."

Schroder was silent while I thought.

"She was my first kiss, you know," I said after a few minutes, calmer now. "Violet, I mean." I had never told anyone that, but my tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. "When we were 12, at the bus stop after school. She was upset because Frieda called her ugly on the bus. I told her she was anything but ugly and she just... kissed me, right on the lips, and ran home. We never talked about it after that."

"That's rough, man," Schroder said. I shrugged.

"That was the first time I felt like I stood a chance with women," I admitted. "And I was already head over heels for Violet, so it didn't help that she had done that."

"Come on, man, girls liked you," Schroder said. "You were like... an abused puppy they fell in love with and wanted to take home."

"Gee, thanks," I grunted.

"Weren't you and that red haired chick going together for a while in high school?"

"We weren't happy together," I said, thinking about her for the first time in years. "You know how free-spirited red heads are. I certainly couldn't tame her."

"Is it true what they say about red heads in bed?" Schroder smirked. I chuckled.

"Oh yeah," I affirmed. She had been amazing as far as first times went. I suspected she wasn't a virgin, but, truth be told, I didn't care. The few times we were together... well, it was worth it.

My parents house came into view and Schroder pulled into their driveway.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked as we climbed out.

"I need some sleep," I excused myself. "I'll be fine. Eventually. Thanks man."

"No problem," he said, tossing my keys back to me. "I'll give you a call when we get back to New York, to see how you're doing." With that, he gave a little wave and started back to the reception on foot. I was glad it wasn't a long walk

I went inside and fell into my old bed, passing out cold with my shoes still on.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I left the next morning around 5, unable to sleep any longer. I left a note for my parents telling them I had gotten called into work and had to leave early, and to tell Linus and Sally I'd see him back at the apartment. As I pulled out of my parents driveway, I began to reflect.

I knew I still loved Violet. I knew I probably always would. But now it was really time to face up to the fact that it would never happen. Maybe it would get easier. Maybe all the hurt would start to fade and in time I could look back on her and feel happy knowing she was happy. Maybe I would get past this and find something - someone - to make me happy.

Maybe.

Seeing all the love and sexual tension around me the night before - from Violet and Franklin at the alter, to Rerun and Lily in the coatroom - had been an overload that pushed me over the edge. It had been a good decision to leave when I did, before I said or did something to someone that I would have regretted. I also made a mental note to call Schroder in the next couple of days and thank him for looking out for me.

I reached the city limits of my old hometown and tried pushed all thoughts of unrequited love out of my mind. I tried to forget that Violet - my Violet - belonged willingly to some other guy.

Flicking on the radio, I let the music take me home.


	4. Tell Me What You See

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N:

thesolitary-dragon: It makes me so happy to get reviews from you! I love reading your analysis of my work, because you always seem to get exactly what I'm going for! I'm glad you like this, it's probably some of my better work. There will be more chapters. Vignettes are much easier for me that stories :) That, and The Beatles never stop inspiring me.

TehFluff: Thank you Glad you're still enjoying it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Tell Me What You See _

_January 1971_

I turned the key in the deadbolt lock and opened the door to the apartment. It creaked open louder than I would have liked. I would have to remember to ask the landlord to oil the hinges when he fixed the dripping faucet in the bathroom next week.

I closed the door, feeling proud that I remembered to re-lock the deadbolt and the latch. It was a practice that had taken some getting used to, having come from a small town where no one ever locked their doors.

I pulled the elastic band out of my ponytail and shook out my long black mane as I stepped out of my wet boots. It had been snowing on my way home from work, now the hem of my bell bottomed jeans were wet and the tips of my hair were dripping with melted snow. I peeled off my jacket and let the warmth of the indoors calm my chilled skin. Ludwig curled himself around my feet a few times, so I leaned down to scratch behind his ears briefly. He slunk away, satisfied I had acknowledged his existence.

I walked into the kitchen from the porch and dropped my keys on the table, picking up the mail and sorting it between junk and bills. Three bills: water, lights and heat. I checked over the figures and tallied them up in my head. We would be just fine if next Saturday went as well at the bar as tonight had. I had made a hell of a lot of tips tonight; more than I usually made in a paycheck.

My stomach growled, and I glanced at the clock. It was 4 am, and I realized I hadn't eaten in over 15 hours, since lunch. I didn't like eating the food at the bar where I worked. Firstly, it came out of my pay, which I needed every penny of. Secondly, it wasn't the cleanest bar in town.

I pulled open the fridge door, smiling when I saw the carton of Chinese food. It was shrimp fried rice, my favourite. Schroder must have picked it up on his way home from work earlier. I took out a pair of chopsticks and leaned against the counter, poking them into the container and pulling out a curly piece of pink shrimp speckled with grains of soy-browned rice, popping it into my mouth and revelling in how good it tasted. In only a few minutes, the carton was empty. I filled an old copper kettle and put it on the stove to boil. A cup of tea would be nice.

I almost didn't notice the music floating in from the livingroom. It had become so natural to hear Schroder playing that old piano at all hours that I had hardly realized he was sitting there at the baby grand, lost in his music. I walked to the doorway between the two rooms and leaned against the doorframe. His thin body swayed softly as his hands moved deftly over the keys, his feet instinctively working the peddles. I smiled, closing my eyes and listening quietly.

It was a new song. Definitely not classical, certainly nothing popular. I could only assume it was one of his own. It was slow and thick, the notes drifting solemnly into oblivion with each bar that passed. The melody was rich; deep and full of emotion, but not sadness. I wondered if it was a personal piece or a commission. Or both.

That had been one of the main draws of this apartment. It was above a store that closed at 10 pm. There were no apartments attached just empty office space to the left, and an alleyway to the right. The next building had apartments, but it was mainly students, like us, who had quirks that were just as strange, if not stranger. All of this meant that Schroder could play when he wanted. He had often said that he couldn't help it when inspiration struck, and it wasn't unusual to find him awake at all hours, sitting at that piano, running his fingers over the keys and scribbling notes.

The kettle whistled. Schroder looked up suddenly from the piano, as though he just realized I was home. Actually, he probably hadn't noticed me come in at all, having been so lost in his music.

"Make me a cup, too?" he asked before he went back to his instrument. I smiled and turned toward the kitchen, returning in a few minutes with two mugs of tea, his with only sugar, mine with only milk. I sat on the piano bench next to him, laying his mug on the table next to the piano. I sipped at my tea while he continued to play, his eyes closed in concentration.

When the piece ended, he sat perfectly still for a moment, hands lingering on the keys, eyes closed. It was a trance he went into whenever he played.

Finally, he opened his eyes and turned toward me on the bench smiling. He kissed me without a word, slowly, lingering near my face even when our lips parted. I smiled.

"How was your night?" he asked when he moved to pick up his mug. I shrugged.

"Busy," I replied. "Made a lot of tips." He nodded, just to show he was listening as he sipped his tea. "How was yours?"

"I finished the piece I've been working on for Compositional Studies," he said proudly. I laughed.

"You've only been working on it for two weeks, it can't be done yet!"

"I was inspired," he grinned.

"Is that what you were just playing?" I asked. He nodded. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah?" he asked. I nodded as I sipped my tea. "In that case it's perfect, because it's about you."

I sat in shock for a moment and must have turned twenty shades of red. He sat, smirking at my expression for a moment before he quickly kissed my cheek and stood up to stretch. I sat on the bench searching for words to express how amazingly flattered I was that the beautiful music I'd just heard was actually meant to be me.

"Why?" I asked finally, looking inquiringly at Schroder as he craned his neck from one side to the other to work out the kinks. His shaggy blonde hair fell into his eyes, and I stood to brush it away. He closed his eyes as I brushed his cheek with my thumb, then opened them to look at me.

"Harper told me to compose beauty, and I couldn't think of anything more beautiful to me than you," he said with another soft smile before sipping at his tea once more. "Now everyone will hear what I hear when I look at you."

I looked at him, studying his face carefully. He had a look in his eye I recognized right away. It was the same look he'd had when he'd asked me to go out with him, and when he'd asked me to move to New York, and when he'd surprised me with a trip to Toronto to see Festival Express that past summer. I knew there was something going on in that head of his.

"What's going on, Schroder?" I asked cautiously. He silently pulled my mug out of my hands and put both mine and his own down on the coffee table. Then he walked back to the piano bench and sat down, patting the space next to him almost giddily. I approached slowly and sat down.

"I want you to hear it from the beginning," he whispered. "Close your eyes until it's over." I gave him a suspicious look, but obliged him. What else could I do?

He began to play. The melody surrounded me and I became lost. Schroder had taught me so much about music; taught me to appreciate its subtleties and nuances. He'd been so proud when I could start to name not only the pieces he was playing, but who had composed them. I had begun to love the deep, rich sound of the piano. Listening to this now, this music that was supposed to represent what beauty meant to Schroder, this music that he heard when he looked at me... I felt a tear slide down my cheek, but didn't move to brush it away.

I don't know how long it was. I was engulfed in wave after wave of sound. I was drowning in the music.

When it was over, I felt Schroder's arm wrap around my waist, and I leaned to rest my head on his shoulder.

"That was amazing," I whispered, finally brushing the tear on my cheek away.

"Open up your eyes, Lucy," he whispered. I did so, only to find him holding a small black box in the hand not around my waist. I looked blankly at it, then up to his face, where he wore a nervous smile.

"Schroder?" I breathed, unable to say anything else.

"I've had this," he began, "since we got back from Violet and Franklin's wedding." He moved his arm from my waist and opened the box to reveal a small gold band, a diamond gracing the middle with two tiny emeralds, one on either side. "I know emeralds aren't traditional, but they remind me so much of your eyes." He slid the ring out of the box and held it timidly between his thumb and forefinger. "I've been looking for the right time to do this."

I couldn't think. I couldn't breath. Part of me didn't process what he was actually doing. I had replayed in my head a million time how he would propose when we were younger, but I'd eventually accepted that it may never happen. But this? This was too much to get my mind around. I looked from the ring to his face over and over again.

"Lucy, I love you," he said, "I don't want anyone else if I can't have you. I know I've led you around in circles about this in the past, but I'm very, very ready to marry you, if you'll let me." He lifted my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it briefly before slipping the ring onto my finger.

I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I let it out. I sat staring at my hand for a long time before I looked back up into his eyes.

"Will you marry me, Lu?"

I broke into full sobs - half laughter, half crying - and nodded, throwing my arms around his neck.

As if he'd even needed to ask.


	5. Two of Us

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: And I'm back. It's been a few weeks, though I've had this written since I finished the last chapter. Christmas is extremely busy where I work, so it's been nuts! But now I have a few days off to update before I go back to school and work! Hurray!

This chapter turned out differently than I had hoped, but I like it better this way, though it's not my favourite. I just thought that this character needed a break and another one of the gang deserved a little showtime. It's less dramatic, which is what I needed after writing the proposal scene! I hope you enjoy it! But be warned, it's VERY short! It will be made up for with the next few updates, I promise!

Nmmi-nut: Thanks for your review, it was really flattering! I hope you like this chapter as much as the last couple.

TehFluff: Thanks again, always a pleasure!

Thesolitarydragon: I especially love your reviews! You always make it feel like I'm at least the writing is getting through to someone, and that makes it worth the writers block and hair-pulling and late night inspiration!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Two of Us_

_December 1971_

There was actually something I liked about this city. I couldn't figure out what it was, but that was my thought as I left the coffee shop and stepped out onto the sidewalk into the tumbling snow. I walked leisurely and sipped at my coffee, enjoying the sounds of the traffic and the bustle of the Christmas crowds around me. Parents pulled young children hurriedly along juggling parcels, couples walked hand in hand, and the schoolkids, out for the holiday, ran haphazardly through the crowds. I smiled as I observed.

Somewhere along the line, I had grown out of my Grinchy ways concerning Christmas. Perhaps it had been being around Linus for so long, first as children, then as roommates in Providence. He had always love Christmas for more than the commercialism, and I guess some of his faith in mankind had rubbed off on me.

I walked down the street toward my apartment, taking in the lights, the Salvation Army bands on the corners, people laughing in the windows of restaurants, surrounded by halos of colourful lights, and the general atmosphere of the city. In a little less than a week I would be flying home to spend Christmas with the family, and for once I was actually looking forward to going back. As much as I liked Chicago, I missed home. I missed the low stone wall we told our secrets to with our graffiti scratched and sprayed along the surface. I missed recognizing the faces of the people I passed on the street. I missed my mother's cooking.

Truth be told, I missed the old gang. I was looking forward to seeing everyone who was coming home for Christmas that year.

And the little boy I was a godfather to.

Little Timothy Armstrong had been born in May, and it was a shock when Violet and Franklin had asked me to be their first born son's godfather. I had accepted, of course. Violet had been one of my closest friends in high school, and whether I still had feelings for her or not was irrelevant. It had been an honour, and I was looking forward to spoiling the boy for his first Christmas.

Which reminded me, I had to go shopping.

"Charlie? Charlie Brown?"

I was shaken out of my thoughts, and I squinted through the snow to find the source of my name on the crowded streets. It was odd to hear it, having only moved to Chicago that summer, and knowing only a few people in the city of over 3 million.

I saw her hair before I saw her face. Bright red and curly in a veritable afro, she came at me with such speed, I wasn't quite sure what had hit me, throwing her arms around my neck. She pulled away a moment later, grinning from ear to ear.

I recognized her now, of course. That undeniable hair, and freckles peppering her pale face, it was hard to mistake her for anyone else.

"Frieda!" I laughed. "How the hell are you!?" I couldn't contain my excitement at seeing a familiar face. I hugged her again, lifting her briefly and spinning her, ignoring the stares of passers-by

"I'm great," she laughed as I put her down on the sidewalk. "God, it's been years! What are you doing in Chicago?"

"I'm going to med school at University of Chicago," I explained. "First year graduate studies."

"Wow, Doctor Brown, huh?" She grinned. "Never thought I'd see the day." I shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"What about you?" I asked. "What are you doing in Chicago?"

"Oh, I'm working at the Auditorium Theatre!" she exclaimed. "I'm on the team in charge of hospitalities. Booking hotels, taking care of transportation, things like that."

"Didn't Pink Floyd do a show back in October?" I asked. She nodded. "You get to meet them?"

"Nice guys," she laughed. "I guess it's a pretty glamourous job. A lot of concerts over the past couple of years. Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead in August, Joplin back in '69."

"Time flies," I said, smiling, though Frieda could obviously sense the retrospective drop in my voice. We stood in silence for a moment, I sipped my coffee as she looked distractedly at a store window display.

"So I heard about Lucy and Schroder!" She said suddenly with renewed enthusiasm. "I mean, obviously we all knew it would happen, but it's so great that it finally did. Oh, and I heard that Linus and your sister finally became an item a while ago. Oh, and I heard about the trouble your sister was having too. How is she now? I'm sure she's okay, of course, she was always a trouper."

My head spun from the conversation speed. I had forgotten what a conversationalist Frieda was.

"Sally's great," I assured her. "She just started at Providence College studying elementary education."

"And Linus?"

"He's doing some archiving work for a private school in Providence."

"Is he going to be home for Christmas?" she asked. "This is the first year I'll have gone back since '68."

"You're going home for Christmas?" I asked. "That's great, so am I! When are you leaving?"

"I'm driving back in two days, how about you?"

"I'm flying back in 6."

Frieda paused for a moment. "Is your ticket refundable?"

"Pardon me?"

"I mean, It's just that it's at least a three day drive, and it would be nice to have some company," she continued. "I mean, if your ticket is refundable, I wouldn't ask you to waste a plane ticket. I have enough for gas, so you wouldn't even need to worry about that, just as long as you have enough for your own food and maybe a motel room if we decide to stop along the way."

"You want me to drive back with you?" I asked dumbly.

"Of course! We could catch up!"

"I'm not the most exciting person to be trapped in a car with, Frieda," I laughed.

"Oh, nonsense!" She tutted. "We both know I talk enough for two!" She beamed up at me. "How about it?"

I thought briefly about how surreal and quick this conversation had been.

Frieda and I hadn't been all that close in high school. We had mutual friends of course, and there had never been any hostility to speak of, we had simply run with different crowds. She had been a cheerleader, had been on the student council, and had been remarkably popular, while I... Well I hadn't been. I had hung out with the same close-knit group I'd known since preschool, and while I wouldn't have given up my friends for the world, I had sometimes wondered what popularity must have been like.

I thought about how nice it would be to finally get to know her now that we were on an equal playing field, no highschool social hierarchy to dictate us. No doubt we had both changed over the years. I knew I had.

"Tell you what," I said finally, "I'll call the airline when I get home and see if my ticket is refundable. If it is, I'll drive back with you, okay?"

"Oh, perfect!" She squealed. "Here's my number!" She fished through her bag and pulled out a business card, which she handed to me. "Call me as soon as you know, I don't care what time! If I'm not home, call work! I have to go or I'll be late!" She gave me a sweeping kiss on the cheek before she hurried off down the road with a wave. "I'll talk to you later, Charlie! Take care!"

I stood on the sidewalk, touching my cheek with a smile before I turned to finish my walk home. The holiday kept on getting better and better.


	6. Let It Be

All You Need Is Love

by Peachethefirst

A/N: So, thus far I've focussed mainly on romantic love and friendship, which I will continue with, of course. That said, I'm also going to take a stab at love of family as well. Some of the characters are a little OOC, but this is just because I'm basing them off of real reactions to grief. I've tried to write them as I see them reacting based on their characters and what I've put them through in the vignettes so far.

If you are in the habit of listening to the title songs, there are so many wonderful version of Let It Be: Lennon/McCartney, Across The Universe, Allison Crowe, Bon Jovi, Tori Amos, Joan Baez, and a great collaboration with Roger Daultry, Simon Townshend, Zak Starkey, and the British Rock Symphony. Listen to one or all of them. While I wrote this, I made up a playlist of all of these versions and put it on repeat!

BTW, this is going to be a LONG one that takes place over a few days time, with more than one POV, so settle in and don't get lost! Each narrator should be easy to pick out if you read the clues right.

Oh, and excuse any spelling errors! I write blind and I've only done one edit.

Don't Panic: You claim to be ready for more angst? You got it!

Nmmi-nut: Know what's funny? I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's a few days before writing the last chapter! Holly Golightly is probably my favourite Hepburn role. :)

TehFluff: I've no idea if I'm flattered or worried that you were up reading the last chapter at 4:30 in the morning, lol. But thanks all the same for actually reviewing at that hour!

----------------------------------------

_May, 1972_

_Let It Be_

He broke my heart sometimes, that boy of mine.

For all of his faith, in God, in humanity, and in me, I think sometimes he questioned why he believed in any of us at all, after having been put through so many tests. And this was one of those tests, for certain.

The time between the phone call and arriving back home was a blur of shock, packing, and tears. I had never seen him in such a state before, even with everything I had put him through in the past. There was nothing I could have said to make the situation any better, which was just as well because I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. For all of my experience with pain and grief, I had never gone through this before.

God willing, it would be a long time before I did.

We got the call just after three o'clock, and were on the road by four. He sat in the driver's seat, not saying a word for the near hour we were driving. I didn't try to talk to him. I knew he would speak when he had something he needed to say. The radio made the silence less deafening. I may have been humming at one point, I really don't remember.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She had never gotten along with her parents, from infancy to adulthood, but I knew that didn't mean she didn't love them. She was their oldest, and their only daughter, and for all of their fall outs and disagreements, I knew that they loved her too.

I just hoped she knew that. Especially now.

From the phone call, the rush of packing, and through our four hour drive from New York, I don't think she shed a tear. Mind you, she didn't do much of anything at all. She just sat and stared out the window blankly, occasionally muttering something about flowers, seating, the viewing, or some other arrangement she would have to dutifully fulfill as the oldest sibling.

By the time we got home she had successfully distracted herself from the weight of the matter and was coming across as the same strong, stable girl everyone was expecting.

To her credit, she had always been good at playing the part.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was around 5 pm when I got home from the hospital. I let myself into the house, not bothering to turn on any lights as I made my way into the livingroom. I dropped down onto the sofa and leaned back, closing my eyes and sighing into the darkness.

It was so quiet. It was never this quiet. There had always been a radio on, or the banter of my mother on the telephone, or my father yelling profanities at the television.

But now, there was no sound echoing out of the darkened rooms, just the cold, shrill ring of reality. Part of me longed for my older siblings to get there, so it wouldn't be so horribly silent. And another part of me wanted to bar myself in here until the reality of the situation changed.

They couldn't be gone. Not this way, and not this soon.

Car crashes were something that happened on the evening news to other people, not something that happened to my family.

A knock came at the door, ripping me out of my contemplation. It couldn't be Lucy or Linus. They wouldn't have knocked. I didn't feel much like getting up. Chances were it was a neighbour or someone with food and condolences.

The knocking came again. Grudgingly, I pulled myself up off the sofa and made my way to the front door.

Lily stood on the porch, looking uncomfortable holding a tupperware container in her hands. She looked up with a start as I opened the door.

"Hey," she said uncertainly. It took a moment for my mouth and mind to collaborate and work properly.

"Hey, Lil'," I said deadpan. I winced inwardly at my own lack of emotion. She looked at her feet, digging a toe into the wood of the front porch.

"Mom heard what happened. She wanted me to stop by and drop off some food," she explained quietly, then looked up with a start. "Not that I wouldn't have come over on my own! You know I would come to check on you... Oh god, this is coming out all wrong..."

"Look, Lil', thanks," I said, though with no conviction. "I appreciate it. Come on in."

She came in and I closed the door behind her. I led her into the kitchen, which was not as dark as the living room due the light from a streetlamp though the uncurtained window. She opened the fridge and put whatever it was her mother had prepared inside.

"Are you all alone?" she asked as she closed the door. I nodded.

"Waiting for Lucy and Linus to get here."

It was then I realized how alone I really was. My grandparents on both sides had been gone for years, and both my parents had been only children. I had no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. No other family to commiserate with. I was truly lonely for the first time in my life.

"Did you... want some company?" Lily offered gently. "I could help out around the house if you wanted. Give you a hand. People will probably be having the same idea as mom soon enough."

I honestly thought about it for a moment, then shook my head.

"Thanks anyway," I declined. "But I think that would just make things kind of weird right now." I knew she was probably more hurt than she let on, but she nodded understandingly.

"I'll go then," she said, but she paused on her way out of the kitchen. "I don't know what this is worth to you right now, but I'll be here for you, if you want me to be. Just say the word."

I managed a slight smile.

"Thank you, Lily," I said, and whether it sounded like it or not, I meant it. She showed herself out. I heard the front door shut as a tightness made its way up into my throat. Her kindness shouldn't have been so overwhelming.

I leaned against the cupboards, sinking down onto the floor helplessly. I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, burying my head in my knees and letting a full sob escape.

It wasn't true, I tried to tell myself. They couldn't be dead. In a few minutes mom would open up the front door, chattering away to dad as they carried the groceries in from the car. She would turn on the kitchen light and ask me why I was sitting in the dark, and dad would tell me to go bring in the rest of the groceries. I would grumble about it, then ask mom what was for supper, and she would tell me, in her long-winded way, about a new recipe she was trying out. Then dad and I would look at each other, knowing that it was probably a better idea to go pick up some takeout than subject ourselves to another experiment of mom's.

Of course, this was wishful thinking. There was no chance now that they would walk through that door.

I sat there long after I had stopped crying, getting up only when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Just as I was steadying myself on the counter, I heard the sound of steps on the front porch and the front door opening.

"Rerun? You home?" came my brother's voice just before he appeared in the kitchen doorway. He flicked the switch and flooded the dark room with light, sufficiently blinding me. "Why are there no lights on?" he asked, though I don't think he expected an answer. Sally's small form appeared at his side. Her big blue eyes caught mine and I felt like crying all over again.

"Are you alright?" she asked earnestly. I shrugged, but that wasn't good enough for her. She pushed past Linus and caught me in a hug, which was probably a comical sight, as she was 5'2" and I was almost a foot taller. I let her hug me, though I could feel myself becoming overwhelmed again. When she pulled away, I looked to where Linus stood leaning on the doorframe. His tired eyes, the same shade of green as my own, looked right into my core, it seemed.

"Are you okay, little brother?" he asked knowingly after a moment. I could feel the sting in my throat as tears began to well.

Before I could answer, the phone rang. I ran for the hallway with unnecessary speed, thankful for the distraction.

It was the funeral home. The hospital had called them on my behalf about funeral arrangements. I briefly remembered having had a conversation with someone about it. They asked when would be a good time to meet and talk. All I could tell them was that we were waiting until Lucy got home so we could decide.

As a family.

After I hung up, I could hear Linus and Sally talking in hushed voices back in the kitchen. I walked as quietly as I could to the doorway and listened.

"I'm not ready to deal with this, Sal," Linus was saying. "I can't believe this is happening. It doesn't seem real."

I peeked around the doorframe and saw Linus sitting on a chair at the kitchen table. He was slumped over, leaning on the table for support. Sally walked up behind him, leaning into his back and rubbing his shoulders affectionately.

"We'll get though this," she quietly promised him, then kissed the top of his head and wrapped her arms around him.

I wondered if I would.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Lucy and I didn't arrive until nearly nine o'clock. Sally warmed us up some casserole from one of the numerous dishes neighbours had begun to bring over shortly after they had arrived around 5:30.

Later, in the livingroom, we all sat with Rerun to hear what had happened. I sat next to Lucy on the love seat, while Sally sat on the arm of the chair Linus was seated in, leaning against him. Rerun sat in the centre of the large sofa.

Though it was an odd time, I couldn't help but notice how alike the three van Pelts looked. Each was tall, with Lucy the shortest at 5'7", Rerun the tallest at 6'1", and Linus somewhere in the middle. Each had the same stunning green eyes and heart-shaped faces, high cheekbones and almond eyes. The only difference was that Linus' hair was fine and deep brown, like his father's had been, while Lucy and Rerun had their mother's thick, jet black hair.

"Mom and dad went for one of their drives this afternoon," the youngest van Pelt started. Lucy and Linus understood what this connoted, for sure, but Sally and I had no idea. Lucy would recount for me later that, for as long as she could remember, her parents would take a drive alone when they were upset with each other to talk things out away from her and her brothers.

"They dropped me off at the Y for basketball before they did. Dad had said he and mom would pick me up at two." Rerun's voice grew strained. "They didn't show," he whimpered. "I was pissed off that they didn't show up. Coach ended up giving me a ride home just before three. But there was a roadblock, and Officer Braun... he found out I was in the car and told me I'd better go with him to the hospital... that there had been an accident..."

He breathed deeply a few times, resting his head in his hands and composing himself.

"Oh god, the car was totalled," he whispered, more to himself than to us. "We followed behind the ambulances to the hospital. Mom... mom was g-gone when we got there. Dad didn't m-make it to surgery."

Lucy was now leaning against me, her head on my shoulder. Sally's tears were free falling as she wrapped her arms around Linus' shoulders. Linus simply stared blankly toward the floor.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked after a moment of silence. Rerun shuddered a sigh.

"I'm going to bed," he said quietly, getting up slowly. No one moved. He walked out of the room and we soon heard his footsteps cross the floor upstairs.

"Lucy?" Linus said after a few minutes of deafening silence. Lucy looked at her younger brother with surprise, her name having been one of only a handful of words he'd uttered that evening.

"What?" She responded. Linus looked at her with a strange look of sadness and curiosity.

"What happens to Rerun when all of this is over?"

It was the first time this question had crossed anyone's mind since getting the calls.

"I don't know."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned next to Sally, who stayed awake as long as she could, keeping an eye on me, until around two am, when she finally gave in to sleep. I tried to keep as still as possible, as too not to wake her in my insomnia.

I failed, and finally crawled out of bed around three. I pulled on some pants, my shoes and my coat and, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind me, stole away for a walk.

I simply walked, with no intention of going anywhere in particular. It was quiet enough out here that I could hear myself think. The only sound was the hum of the streetlights and my own footsteps on the pavement. The steady thud of my shoes was soothing; an easy rhythm to get lost in, and before I knew where it was I was heading, I had arrived.

The stone wall looked much smaller than it had years ago. Rather than being able to lean slightly forward and rest my arms and chin, I put one leg over, and then the other, and sat looking out over the familiar terrain, thinking about the many conversations I'd had over the years in the presence of the wall. Did my secrets, and the secrets of countless others, still echo in its old stones? How many generations had whispered confessions, and sobbed grievances, and laughed until they cried, and stolen kisses, and broken hearts whilst leaning on the old stronghold?

And, if they one day tore it down, and all of our voices floated away, who would remember us then?

I pulled one foot back over the wall and carefully turned my body so I could lay down along the top.

Staring up at the black velvet sky, I found myself feeling very, very alone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Lucy, amid numerous phone calls and visits to and from the funeral home, the church, her parents lawyer, and those offering condolences, didn't eat much at breakfast, or at lunch. She spoke matter-of-factly about the wake, the funeral, the will, and other matters she was dealing with on behalf of her siblings, once more playing the part that was expected of her. She had always been the rock; the solid foundation that people turned to during the bad times to get them through.

Though she was, indeed, a strong woman whom I admired, I often suspected she wasn't as tough as she would have had us think. But that's why she had Schroder, I suppose. He was as level headed as they came, which worked well to keep her from flying off the handle too often, especially when we were teenagers.

Rerun seemed to be going through the motions of normalcy quite well, though he did disappear into his bedroom periodically. He responded when spoken to, was polite to those who offered their commiseration, and helped me around the kitchen. He generally seemed most content when he had something to keep him busy. Schroder said that something about me seemed to sooth him, and he was less despondent when he was lingering around the kitchen with me. I didn't mind.

It was Linus I was worried about. He was even more subdued than usual, hardly speaking unless he absolutely had to. He answered most questions with either a nod or a shake of his head. Anything that required more than that, he would generally pretend he hadn't heard. His usually optimistic attitude was muffled by the severe anguish of the situation. It tore me apart to see him in such a horrible state, and for the first time, I understood his worry for me during my recovery period.

Schroder and I were caught up in the middle of the van Pelt siblings sorrow. Though I suppose technically we didn't have to be there, I knew that we both felt the same way; there was no where else either of us would have gone at that point. Not when they needed us, and certainly not after all we had been through together.

"Rerun," I said as I washed dishes in the kitchen sink, "Could you give me a hand drying these, please?" I thought he'd appreciate something to do, considering he was simply sitting at the kitchen table, staring distractedly at nothing at all.

He responded immediately, jumping up and grabbing a dishtowel, as though he'd been waiting for me to make the request.

We were alone at the moment. Linus had gone for a walk, saying he needed time to think and Schroder had driven Lucy and down to the funeral home to make a few final decisions before the funeral, which would be held the next morning. Rerun had declined the offer to help her with this task, and I honestly couldn't blame him one bit. He'd been through so much more than any teenager should have ever had to go through in only 24 hours.

I thought to myself how odd our separate situations were. Only a few years earlier, I had been strung out on drugs, stealing money from my parents and taking advantage of my brother and my now-boyfriend's hospitality in order to party every weekend in the city. Just over two years ago I had dropped out of rehab and relapsed, going on a dangerous bender that had nearly cost me my life. And though I had been clean for 27 months, there were still days I wondered why it hadn't turned out much worse for me. Some days I felt I didn't deserve Linus' love; his compassion and patience. I had stolen, cheated, and lied to people who loved me. Sometimes I still felt like a horrible person.

But Rerun? What had he done to deserve any of this pain? He was a good kid. He was working at a grocery store until he had enough to move to Providence and attend the Rhode Island State Police Academy without having to ask his parents for money. He never took advantage of anyone, never asked for more than his fair share. He was smart, and athletic, and an all around good person. Why was it my life had so much undeserved good in it, while he had done nothing to deserve to go through this ordeal?

I felt tears start to trickle down my cheeks and moved quickly to wipe them away in my sleeve, but not before Rerun saw them.

"Are you okay, Sally?" he asked timidly, putting the plate he was drying down on the counter. I smiled half-heartedly and grabbed another dishtowel to dry my hands.

"I'm okay," I lied, dabbing at my eyes and brushing strands of my long blonde bang away. "Just worried."

"About Linus?" he ventured.

"And you and Lucy," I said with a sniffle. "I feel so horrible about everything that's happened, and I just want to make things easier on you three."

We were silent for a few minutes, the only sound being the rattle of the dishes that Rerun was drying. I leaned against the counter, back to the sink, and rubbed my eyes. I was sure that my lack of sleep was contributing to my being so emotional.

"Have you ever lost a family member?" he asked in a hushed voice laced with nervousness. I looked at him, and he peeked sideways at me through black bangs with the same green eyes as his brother. It was such a heartbreaking question that I had to resist the urge to hug him.

"No, I haven't," I admitted. He looked down and continued to dry the dishes. I thought for a moment. "But I have lost someone I was close to," I continued. He didn't stop drying, but looked at me earnestly.

"You remember when I... was in rehab?" I asked, embarrassed and ashamed to have to be saying it out loud to this boy two years my junior. Some role model I was.

But Rerun just nodded, looking eager that I continue. I hesitated, but did so.

"When I was there, I was roommates with a girl named Paula for my first month," I said. I hadn't told anyone but my therapist this before, and I certainly didn't know why I was telling Rerun, but something told me that he needed to hear that he wasn't alone in his grief. "She was a few years older than me, and a recovering heroin addict. Her mother wouldn't let her see her little boy until she was clean. She'd been using for over a year before she got there, and had been in the program for 6 months." I smiled, remembering how she'd had pictures of her little boy taped all over her side of the room as inspiration to get clean.

"Did she do it?"

"She graduated the program in December, a month after I got there," I said. "I was so proud of her. She was my role model for what I wanted to do. I thought that if she could get clean, then there was a chance for me."

"What happened to her?" Rerun asked timidly, his eyes telling me he knew the answer already. I sighed and swallowed tears.

"She relapsed and died of an overdose in January. My councillor let me go to the funeral, but I ran off after the service and shot up with some old friends. I ended up in the ICU, and nearly died."

I think my honesty scared him for a moment. He stared with a look of shock as I tried to maintain my composure.

"I never knew any of that," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head.

"No one really knew why I relapsed," I explained. "Except my therapist. Not even Linus."

"So, why are you telling me?" he asked, looking genuinely confused.

"When I went back to rehab," I explained, "my therapist made me see that Paula wouldn't have wanted the same fate for me as her. She would have wanted me to stay clean and move on with my life. Her death didn't mean that my life was over too." I stopped and looked Rerun in the eyes. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

He stared at me for a long time before nodding. I smiled softly.

"Okay then," I said, and put my hands back into the sink to finish the dishes. There was silence for a long time until Rerun spoke again. By this time, I had finished washing and was putting on the kettle for some coffee, and Rerun was placing the last plate in the cupboard. He folded the cup towel and laid it over a cupboard door, then stood silently by the sink for a few moments.

"Sally?"

"Hmm?"

"Linus is lucky to have a girlfriend like you," he stammered, then disappeared out into the hallway and up the stairs before I had a chance to respond.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

We sat around the dinner table that night, eating chicken that a neighbour had brought over that day. I think we were all straining to be somewhat normal (though what was normal about the situation was beyond me) and that strain was putting pressure on an already stressful situation.

"Linus, after supper can I run the choices I made at the funeral parlour by you and make sure you're okay with them?" I asked. Linus remained silent, but nodded while he stared at his plate, pushing his food around listlessly. "And, Rerun?" I said gently to my youngest brother. "You, Linus and I have to sit down tomorrow night and discuss what you're going to do in the next little while."

"Okay," Rerun replied after a long drink of water. I took another bite of chicken (which wasn't very good to be honest) while I thought of what else I needed to do in the next two days in terms of handling my parents estate.

"Oh, I was speaking with Mr Gray and the reading of the will is going to be-"

"Enough, Lucy!" Linus bellowed.

Every fork in the room clattered and heads snapped instantly toward him. He sat staring at me angrily from where he sat across the table, fists curled so tightly his knuckles were white. I sat in shock for a moment. Linus rarely, if ever, raised his voice in anger.

"Enough what?" I demanded, suddenly snapping back defensively. I had never been one who enjoyed being yelled at.

"Can't you just let us grieve properly for one night instead of going on and on about arrangements? God's sake, they're not even in the ground yet and you're already talking about their will?"

I was stunned. I sat with my mouth hanging open for a second while my brain processed the accusation.

"Well, excuse me if I want our parents affairs in order!" I finally shouted back. "Seems to me that _you're_ the one who left all of this on _my_ shoulders!"

"No one asked you to do it all, Lucy!" Linus yelled, standing and waving his hands in exasperation. He pushed his chair away and took a few steps backward. "You just marched on in and assumed to take over like you always do! It's so typical!"

"And when have you offered me any help with this, Linus?" I demanded angrily, standing up as well, walking around the table to meet him where he stood. "You haven't once asked if I needed help picking out the flowers, or setting up the church, or picking out the coffins, or meeting with the funeral directors, or anything! I'm sorry if you're not dealing with this well, but none of us asked for this to happen, and these are just things that need to be done and decisions that need to be made!"

"Well do you have to shove them down our throats?" Linus demanded. "God, it's like you don't even care how we feel!"

CRACK

Linus grabbed his cheek in shock, eyes wide as he took a stumbling step back. The anger melted from his features and was replaced by hurt and guilt. When he removed his hand, there was a perfectly shaped red outline of my palm.

"Don't you for one _second_ accuse me of not caring about this family, Linus van Pelt!" I screamed furiously, my throat tight and tears in my eyes. "Because you have _no_ idea how hard it's been for me to make all of these decisions alone!" I paused, waiting for a retaliation as I caught my breath and tried to steady my shaking body. No one moved - I'm not even sure if they breathed - in anticipation. "You remember that they were my parents, too," I hissed finally when he didn't respond. "All I've been trying to do is make this easier on everyone, and try to forget that my mother won't be here to help me pick out my wedding dress, and my daddy won't be here to walk me down the aisle."

With that, I turned and marched up the stairs. I heard Schroder call after me, as well as Linus, but I ignored them both. I got to my room and slammed the door brazenly, daring someone to come after me.

I fumed. I cursed, and I paced, and I cursed again. I threw an old stuffed animal across the room. I pulled at my hair, and screamed into a pillow, and then I cursed a third time.

And then, for the first time since hearing the news of my parents deaths, I, Lucille van Pelt, cried.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I had never raised my voice in anger to anyone in my life.

I was the diplomatic one. I believed, as a rule, that everything could be rationally talked through without resorting to a screaming match.

But something inside of me had just... snapped.

Lucy was the strong one. She had always been the strong one.

When I was in the seventh grade, she had stood up to a whole group of older boys who were giving me a hard time. When Rerun was 9, she had carried him eight blocks home on her back after he crashed his bike into a tree and hurt his leg. And after hearing the news of our parents accident, she had come home full of duty and responsibility, ready to do what needed to be done in the wake of our family's tragedy.

Maybe that was it. In order to start picking up the pieces, one first had to accept that something was broken. And I was far from ready to accept that my family was broken. Her constant talk of funeral plans and burial sites had just pushed and pushed the fact that our parents were gone. And then, to solidify it, she'd brought up the reading of the will. Perhaps that was the straw that ultimately broke my back.

"_God, it's like you don't even care how we feel!"_

Jeez, what kind of an asshole was I? Of course she cared. She had done nothing but care for us since she'd come home. And she was right. I hadn't offered to help her out once.

I stood outside her bedroom door, hesitant to knock. I just knew that she would be ready to scream at me, and I knew I deserved it. But I needed to tell her that I hadn't meant a word of it.

I took a deep breath, and my knuckles met the door lightly.

"Lucy?" I ventured.

"Fuck off," came her reply. I could have almost smiled at the response. It was so like her.

"Lucy, I'm sorry," I said earnestly. "I didn't mean it."

Silence.

"I swear," I persisted. "I know you care about us, I'm just - " I grasped for the right word. "Frustrated with everything that's going on."

Silence.

"Please let me in?"

After a moment I heard the box spring mattress creak and Lucy's feet crossing the floor. Then came the click of the lock unclasping. I waited for a moment or two, but the door didn't open. I turned the knob slowly and peeked my head into the room. Lucy sat on the edge of her old bed, arms hugging her stomach as she stared at the floor. I slipped in and closed the door gently, standing timidly across the room from her. There was silence for a moment until she looked up at me, her green eyes bloodshot, makeup staining dark circles under her them. She looked quite the state.

"Do you know what I was doing when I got the call?" she asked quietly, an intensely tired look on her thin face. For the first time in her life, Lucy looked defeated and weary.

"What?"

"Looking through Modern Bride Magazine," she said flatly. "I was dog-earing pages I wanted mom to look at when she came to visit next month."

I winced and, feeling it was safe enough, crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed. She surprised me by leaning on my shoulder and sighing.

"I keep trying to pretend it's not them," she whispered. "Try to convince myself it's some other family this has happened to."

"I know," I commiserated. Lucy's breath shuddered.

"I want this all to be a bad dream," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "I can't handle this alone."

I felt a sob shake her shoulders and instinctively leaned my head on hers, grabbing her hand and squeezing it protectively.

"You're not alone, Lucy," I promised. "I've been out of it the last two days, but I'll try and help out more, okay?"

She said nothing, and I didn't expect her to. We sat there in the silence, thinking, no doubt, about the next morning, when we, the three grown up van Pelt children, would have to bury our parents.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sleep did not come for me that night. My mind raced between Lucy and Linus' blowup, my parents funeral in the morning, Lily's overwhelming kindness, and my conversation with Sally earlier that day.

I crawled out of bed around 3 and made my way down into the kitchen for a drink, but never made it that far. As I passed the front door, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the outdoor porch light was on and, though I was sure there was nothing to worry about, I checked to see who the culprit was.

Schroder sat in one of the patio chairs on the front porch, in the corner furthest from the door. As I stepped out in my sock feet, I watched a cloud of smoke curl out of his mouth and nose to encircle his head before fading away into the breeze.

Once I closed the door and got a few feet closer, I could tell it wasn't tobacco.

"Hey," I said, sitting in a chair on the other side of the patio table. Schroder looked at me and nodded an acknowledgement, having already sucked in a hit of the glass pipe I could now see he was holding. The smell was somewhat familiar and extremely tempting, so I never thought a second time when he extended the pipe and lighter to me.

"Don't tell your sister," he said through a lungful of smoke. I nodded and lit up, sucking back the hot smoke. I took too much and started to cough violently, at which Schroder chuckled and took the paraphernalia back.

"If you don't cough, you don't get off," he recited. I nodded through my coughing fit. My lungs burned, but it was worth it. I felt lightheaded within a few moments.

"You do this very much?" I asked as he lit up and took another pip. He shook his head and french inhaled, pushing smoke expertly out of his mouth and inhaling it again through his nose. I watched in awe as he released and captured the fumes with a seasoned professionalism.

"Not much," he answered when he was done. "Maybe once or twice every few months, when I'm really stressed or stuck for inspiration when I compose." He looked into the bowl of his pipe. "You want the last bit of this bowl?"

"Sure," I said, taking the pipe from him and lighting up again, this time being careful not to burn out my lungs.

"Do you do this often?" he asked. I shook my head no. I had only done it a few times since I was 16. Mostly, I had been too afraid my coach would find out if I did it too often and would kick me off the basketball team.

When the last of the bowl was gone, we both leaned back in our chairs and let the mellow effects of the plant take hold.

"How are you holding up?" Schroder asked conversationally. I shrugged, though I wasn't even sure he was looking at me.

"I'm kind of... numb," I admitted. "It's like I'm just going though the motions."

We were quiet for a few minutes.

"Lily stopped by when you and Lucy were at the store this afternoon," he said nonchalantly. "You two still going together?"

"No," I muttered. "We - I broke up with her a few weeks ago."

"Ooh, bad timing."

"Tell me about it."

"Why'd you break up?"

"I don't really know," I admitted miserably. God, I thought to myself, I really missed Lily.

"No love?"

"Love isn't - wasn't the problem," I staggered. "I just... got scared, man. Do you know what it's like when they start talking about marriage and families and stuff?"

Schroder suddenly burst out laughing.

"You have no idea!" he managed to spit out though breathless laughs. "God, I can't remember a time when Lucy _didn't_ talk about us getting married!" He finally managed to calm his laughter, though he was still chuckling to himself. "I'm sorry, man, you just brought back a lot of memories."

"We were almost two years, y'know," I continued, feeling more and more lonely. "And it was, like, so easy to be with her! We rarely fought, and we were always really happy, and we have so much in common, and - " I paused and thought for a moment. "Christ, why_did_ I break up with her?"

"Commitment is scary shit," Schroder said sagely. "I'm still freaking terrified of getting married. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Lu, and I'd never leave her, it's just that having it made official, on paper? It's terrifying."

"So, you'd be cool just playing house with her?" I ventured. Schroder chuckled.

"Yeah," he said. "Y'know, I think I would, sometimes. But then," he added, "I know that having the wedding, with bridesmaids, and flowers, and all that stuff is important to Lu. It's something a lot of them think about right from when they're kids. And if it's what's going to make her happy, it's worth putting aside my stupid selfish fears."

"That's decent of you, man."

"Yeah," Schroder said quietly, seeming to space out momentarily. "You know she almost broke up with me the first moved to New York?"

"Really?" I asked with genuine surprised. Everyone had always thought that Lucy and Schroder were a perfect couple.

"Yeah. She made friends with a guy from one of her classes. They'd study together at school, and a couple of times at our apartment. I was jealous, you know? All of the guys she'd known before were from around here and I knew them well enough that I trusted them."

He paused to take another hit.

"But there was nothin' goin' on, right?" I asked cautiously. Schroder shook his head and exhaled.

"I know Lucy would never cheat on me," he said confidently. "But it was him I didn't trust. All this stuff was runnin' though my head: he was going to take advantage of her when they were alone, he was going to get her drunk or high or something and catch her off guard. Scared the shit out of me."

I thought about Lily. How would I feel if she met a new guy, even now that we weren't together. It made me mad just thinking about it, so I sucked back another hit.

"So this one night," he continued, "I was late getting back from work, and as I'm walking up the stairs to the apartment, I hear my Abbey Road album playing, and when I open the door, there's Lucy and the guy sitting at the kitchen table smoking up. He's smoking up in _my_apartment, with _my_ girlfriend, listening to _my_ music? I lost it. I asked her what the fuck she was doing, and who the hell he thought he was, and why she hadn't told me he was coming over, and all kinds of shit. I tell him to get the fuck out, so he leaves, and Lucy freaks out. She tells me I'm an asshole, and that I had no right to get mad at him, and asks if I don't trust her why am I with her. I tried to calm her down and explain, but she got a bag together and walked out, said she was going to go stay with a friend."

"It wasn't -"

"No, she went to stay with the woman who owns the bar she works at." He sighed. "Longest night of my life. She called the next day and said that she didn't know why I had freaked out, and said that it had really scared her. God, I thought she was going to break up with me right then. I'd never freaked out like that before, especially not at Lu. But she came home that night and we talked it out, thank god. Haven't had another incident like that since."

"Wow," was all I could manage. "I don't know how I'd have handled that."

He smirked. "I've grown up a lot since then," he admitted. "Situations like that really make you put your life in perspective. Make you see what's important."

"Yeah," I said retrospectively. "Hey, got any more grass?"

Schroder nodded.

"You sure you're up to another bowl?" he asked. "How about we just do a half? I don't want Linus and Lucy yelling at me tomorrow if you're burnt out tomorrow at the service."

I nodded in agreement with his logic, and he produced a small metal container, removing from it a baggy of finely ground dried herb. He half filled the bowl of his pipe and put it back in the tin, then lit up the pipe and took the first hit.

"Take Sally, for example," he said, continuing on our topic as I took my own hit a few moments later. "She dealt with some rough shit, had a hard time getting though rehab, but she came out of it with years and years worth of growing up done in almost no time at all." He paused. "Not that I'm saying it's the best method, but my point still stands."

I thought about Sally for a minute. When I was 14 and she was 16, she seemed like the coolest girl I knew. She hung out with the coolest kids, went to the coolest parties, and had the coolest guys wanting to go out with her. I'd had such a crush on her.

Hell, who was I kidding, I still had a soft spot for her. But she was Linus' girl, and always had been deep down. She'd make an awesome sister in law someday. She was the kind of girl you could tell anything and not be afraid of being judged, or persecuted, or ratted out.

"And, you know, this whole ordeal is going to make you grow up fast too," he said, breaking into my thoughts. "Faster than you think."

"I miss them," I admitted, more to myself than him. "I don't know how I'm going to make it though tomorrow."

"You have two older siblings who are there for you," Schroder assured me. "And Sally and me if you feel like you can't talk to them." He paused. "And, you know, Lily seems to really care about you too, so, it's not like you have to be alone in this."

"Schroder?"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna be an awesome brother-in-law, man."

"Ditto, kid."

We finished the pipe in relative quiet after that, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Schroder went to bed around four o'clock. I did to, but stayed up tossing and turning for a while, thinking in detail about everything he'd said. Before I finally found sleep (sometime around 5:30) I resolved to rethink my decision to break up with Lily.

After all, if Schroder of all people could get past his fear of commitment, I was certain that almost anybody could.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

I was not a religious man, but Linus' calm, deep voice brought me close to tears. As he took his place once more standing between Sally and Rerun, I stared at the coffins before me that sat waiting patiently to be lowered into the cool ground.

Lucy's parents had never liked me, and I couldn't blame them. I wasn't what they wanted for her. They thought I wasn't good enough, and most of the time I wondered if they were right. They had pictured a doctor or lawyer who would rein her in and domesticate her the way they had never been able to. Instead they got me; a long haired, pot smoking musician who listened to rock and roll and would one day whisk their daughter away to New York City.

They were never meanspirited about it, though. I think they'd eventually accepted that Lucy wasn't going to leave me and decided to live and let die. After all, her father had given me his blessing to propose.

Next to me, tears stained Lucy's cheeks, though she was no longer crying. Rerun was gripping her hand firmly, his own tears still slipping silently down his face. Next to him, Linus had an arm wrapped around Sally's shoulders, and her arm was placed around his waist.

Linus' outburst the night before had been long forgiven, and he had even offered to go on ahead to the church so Lucy would have time to get ready for the service without rushing. A small gesture, but very much appreciated, just like Lucy pretending not to smell the faint odour of marijuana smoke on Rerun's clothing that morning (though she did shoot me a look, which I knew meant I would get hell later).

When the final prayers had been said, and the coffins lowered reverently into the ground, the crowd started to disperse. Some came up and offered condolences yet again, some simply slipped off to their cars, for fear of the impending rain. The clouds grew darker with each passing moment.

Mr and Mrs Brown offered their support, as did my own parents, before slipping away into the growing line of cars progressing away from the cemetery. Most of the mourners would be at the house when we got back, no doubt. Food would be piled high on the kitchen table. They would sit and remember the good times and the bad times. Linus, Lucy, and Rerun would hear stories about their parents they would otherwise never have heard.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something to look forward to.

After a few minutes, when the mourners had all driven away, I offered to go and pull the car around. I wanted to give them a chance to be alone with their parents. Lucy nodded, and Sally and I walked to where we were parked.

"What a day," she said quietly as we drove along the road between rows and rows of graves. "This is something I don't want to do again for a very long time."

I nodded in agreement.

I pulled the car up near the van Pelt's grave site and watched the three siblings saying goodbye. Lucy stood between her brothers as they faced the graves, her left hand holding Rerun's firmly, Linus' arm around her shoulder comfortingly. Slowly, Rerun pulled away from his sister, stepping forward and dropping the two flowers he had, one into his mother's plot, on into his fathers. When he rejoined them, Linus did the same. Lucy, after dropping her own flowers, walked forward slowly between the two plots. She kissed each of her hands and placed them briefly on each of her parents gravestones, then walked back to her brothers.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Sally asked me uneasily. I said nothing, but watched as Lucy wrapped her arms around Rerun's shoulders in a hug, and Linus embraced his brother and sister simultaneously. Then, without a word, each brother took one of Lucy's hands and the siblings started toward where Sally and I sat waiting, the first drops of rain hitting the windsheild.

I was sure that they would be alright as long as they had each other.


	7. Here Comes the Sun

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: And here we are again! I've decided to take a fluffy little break from the obvious angst of the last chapter. I'm all angst-ed out! At least until my caffeine wears off. Haha, but seriously, I'm plotting out the next few chapters in my head. Time line wise, I think I'm going to set it to one chapter every year or so until... well until I decide to end it! I'm toying around with a few different ideas for the last installment, some happier, some sadder. No spoilers for you yet! Just enjoy the happiness while I regroup for more drama!

Nmmi-nut: If the word windshield (which I did have spelled wrong) is the only criticism you have, I shall consider the chapter a huge success! For now, enjoy the fluffiness! Drama will commence soon, I promise!

Thesolitarydragon: Wow. Longest review EVER! But you covered so very much, and just about everything you picked up on was spot on with what I was going for in both chapters (including the tribute to the bicycle)! I've always thought of Charlie Brown having a soft spot for red-heads, and I especially love your comments concerning Linus in the last chapter, specifically "_Because who gives advice to the wiseman?" _Utterly poetic! Please enjoy this unscheduled bout of fluffy goodness!

TehFluff: Making people cry is one of my great joys in life!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Here Comes the Sun_

_May 1973_

I stretched lazily under the warm covers as I woke, not yet opening my eyes in an attempt to cling to the last trickles of sleep. I so often lacked sleep, it felt odd to be able to enjoy myself. I could feel the sun streaming in though the blinds over window, the strips of light warm on my face.

Without a word, I turned onto my side, away from the window, and let my hand search for the feel of soft, cool skin. I found it in the form of a shoulder and moved closer to the source, letting my arm drape across her bare chest.

I felt her hand move to graze my forearm and I smiled.

"Mornin'," she mumbled, not quite awake. I opened my eyes slowly and let myself look at her, long tendrils of tangled hair splayed into a mess across her pillow, pale skin peppered with freckles that I had grown very fond of tracing. Her eyes were still closed as I propped myself up onto my elbow and watched her with a smile.

"Morning," I said back softly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face as she turned her head toward me and her eyes fluttered open. She blinked once or twice before smiling up at me.

"It's weird to have you here in the morning," she said pleasantly, stretching leisurely, then planting a kiss on the tip of my nose. I grinned and responded by closing the space between our lips. She was right. My training at the hospital took up at least 75 percent of my time. I got in late, and I left early. Most nights I was too tired to even make it to bed, no matter which of our apartments I ended up staying at.

Which was why I was so happy to wake up next to her for once. We had stayed up late, first making love (repeatedly), then talking until one of us had fallen asleep first.

"So, have you decided what we're doing today?" I asked, laying on my back. "I don't get a day off very often, lets make it count." She rested her head in the crook of my shoulder and let her hand trace my torso, coming to rest along my hip bone. I shivered at the touch and kissed the top of her head.

"Depends," she said. "Do you want to have a lazy day around the house, or go out and greet the day?"

I looked at the clock.

"It's nearly 10."

"There's still lots of day left to greet," she pointed out. I grinned. We both knew she couldn't have spent a "lazy day around the house" if her life had depended on it. She was so full of energy; she always had to be moving, or talking, or planning. It was rare for her to have a day off as well, but she had made sure to have one off the same day as me. It was an incredibly appreciated gesture, and one that I planned to take full advantage of.

"Yeah, lets go out and greet what's left of the day," I agreed. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know," she mused. "I was thinking we could grab a coffee, maybe go to the Lincoln Park Zoo, eat lunch at Buckingham Fountain, shop for a few hours, have dinner, and grab a movie tonight? Something like that, anyway."

I grinned again. She had obviously thought this through considerably.

"Sounds great," I said. "So we should probably get up soon?"

"5 more minutes," she said into my chest. I stroked her curly red hair with one hand, and tucked the other behind my head, sighing contentedly. I wouldn't even leave the bed if it was up to me. I would have been completely satisfied making good use of it for the next however many hours.

Frieda and I had started seeing each other at Christmas time. Actually, it was almost a year to the day that we'd randomly met on the streets and decided to drive back home to Rhode Island together for the holidays.

We'd hit it off so completely. On the car ride home, and over the months afterward, we'd grown incredibly close. We shared tastes in music (specifically Pink Floyd), movies (both of us were huge science fiction fans), and food (we shared a commonly misunderstood love of sushi).

Apparently, we were both much more alike than high school had lead us to believe

I had told her about my unrequited love for Violet for all those years, and she had told me about the relationship she'd gotten into just after moving to Chicago that had almost cost her her life. I had told her about my frequent depression as a child and teenager, and she had told me about her father's alcoholism after her mother left.

"I think I'm afraid to be happy," I had told her one night just before Christmas as we walked back to my place after having coffee at the same café I had frequented before finding her the year before. "Because every time I get too happy, something bad happens."

She had looked at me thoughtfully, soft flakes of snow clinging to her hair and eyelashes as she stopped walking.

"What if you had someone to make you happy?" she had asked. "Someone to make sure nothing bad would happen?"

"Well, then I guess I wouldn't be so afraid," I had mused.

"Then I guess you can stop being afraid, Charlie," she had said with a smile, then she'd stood up on her tip toes to kiss me for the first time. We'd lingered on the sidewalk for a moment, lips locked in the light of a toy store display window. Other pedestrians had smiled as they passed, and some had grumbled about having to walk around us, and a child had cried a disgusted 'eww', but I didn't even care.

It was the first of many embraces to come.

She nuzzled her cheek into my chest momentarily, snapping me out of my memories, before she sat up and stretched, blankets sliding down her bare front. She didn't move to correct it. Instead she climbed out from under the covers, revealing the rest of her body, nonchalantly strolling out of her bedroom toward the bathroom.

If anyone in high school had told me I would watch Freida walk naked out of a room in which we had spent one of many nights together, I would have believed they were somewhat mad - perhaps even slightly mentally disturbed - and probably on some kind of hallucinogenic.

And yet, here I was, in Frieda's bedroom, laying in her bed, listening to the water running in the bathroom, where a very naked Frieda was stepping into the shower.

I grinned, wicked thoughts filling my head, and climbed out of bed, making my way to the bathroom to join her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	8. Yesterday

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: I haven't said much on this pairing, if anything, but I've been meaning to for a while. It's been a while between updates due to school, mainly, and it'll probably keep that way until April, so be patient with me! The last chapter wasn't great, just a filler, really, and for that I apologize. So, I hope this one is better, if not far more depressing :P

Much love, till next time!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Yesterday_

_April 1974_

"I've met someone else."

I couldn't believe the words were coming out of her mouth. I grasped for words to match my state of mind, but found nothing that could express the anger, the sorrow, or the feeling of my heart ripping into pieces.

"When?" I finally managed to choke out. She turned her eyes down to where she wrung her hands in her lap, brown bangs obstructing her view.

"A few months ago," she admitted quietly. "I... I wanted to tell you sooner, but I couldn't find the right time."

"So all of those late office hours? All of the out of town conferences? All of the 'I have to go, the boss needs me'... it was all a lie?" I asked, bewildered at how I had let such things go unchecked in trust. What kind of fool was I?

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice shuddering. "I don't want to hurt you..."

"Bullshit!" I yelled, kicking the coffee table as I stood in anger. "You could have told me weeks ago - months ago - that this was over for you! Instead you just get cold and avoid me so I'm left to wonder what the hell _I_ did wrong, when all along it's _you_!" I glared at her, ice filling my voice as I hissed: "You're so fucking selfish!"

I ran a hand through my hair as I turned from her and stared out the window. I couldn't hide the tears that were brimming my eyes any other way. Rain ran down the window pane, obscuring my vision of the grey sky, the grey cement, the grey people; when had everything gotten so grey?

There was a long silence. A million thoughts plagued my head. I wondered how many times they had been together, how they had met, what this new "someone" had that I didn't.

"I never meant to hurt you," came her soft voice in such a tone it made me want to weep.

"Well," I grunted bitterly, not turning to face her, "Guess you fucked up." Another awkward pause. "Just go," I said flatly. "Get what you need and go. I can't even look at you."

I vaguely heard her stand and walk out of the room, then the shuffling of things in our - no, my bedroom. It wasn't hers anymore.

It was over. The confused high school feelings, the experimentation under the guise of close friendship, the four sweet, happy years together since finding each other again at Violet and Franklin's wedding. Everything that had ever meant anything to me was gone.

And I couldn't help but wonder if I had pushed her away. Maybe if I'd been more attentive, more sensitive, more _something_, she wouldn't have had to go elsewhere. Now she was packing her bags and leaving me.

Did my job take up too much time? My volunteer work with the kids at the youth centre downtown? Was I simply blind to her needs? Maybe she had been trying to tell me for ages that something was amiss - that she was unhappy - and I was simply too wrapped up in myself to notice. Was I the one at fault here? Did her loneliness drive her to find someone who could give her what I couldn't?

I didn't know, and I would never know. It didn't matter anyway.

I heard the click of her shoes in the livingroom doorway and finally turned to see her standing there. She had her duffle bag slung on one shoulder. Her eyes were bloodshot behind her glasses, and she hadn't even bothered to wipe away the tears lining her cheeks.

"I'll get my things tomorrow," she said softly, "While you're at work."

"Yeah," I choked. "That's probably best." She shifted feet uncertainly. Neither of us knew what to do, what to say. I don't think either of us had expected this today.

"Patricia - " she started apologetically, but I help up my hand, as though to block her words.

"Marcie, don't," I snapped. "Just go." She bit her lip and nodded miserably, turning toward the front porch and making her way down the hall, out of my sight. I heard the front door open and shut, and the click of her heels in the hallway die slowly.

Slowly, I began to sob, tears spilling out of me as I had never thought possible. Grasping the arm of a chair, I sank onto the floor of my livingroom. The apartment we had shared, which had seemed so small at one time, now seemed impossibly large and empty.


	9. Things We Said Today

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N:I don't like this chapter, because I don't like writing things against my will. But damn those little characters, they tell me what to write and I must appease them. I'm sorry. Short chapter, relevant to story-arcs to come in the next couple. Review, please, even if it's just to tell me what a horrible person I am. I can take it! Love Momo-chan (Peaches)

_Things We Said Today_

_October 1974_

"Are you busy?"

I looked up from my desk with a start. I had been reviewing patient files when her voice had abruptly broken the silence. I hadn't even heard her come home. I looked at the clock and realized it was long past midnight.

She stood in the doorway. She had changed out of her work clothes, replacing that morning's brown bell bottomed corduroys and striped dress shirt for a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old yellow tee shirt of mine. She was leaning against the frame, weight balanced on her left leg, her right leg crossed in front, and her arms crossed under her breasts. She met my eyes briefly, then looked down. I knew that posture; that look.

"What's wrong?" I asked immediately, wondering how long she'd been standing there. She bit her bottom lip and looked back at me, red curls dangling in her eyes.

"We have to talk," she started, and my stomach dropped like I'd swallowed a rock. Nothing good ever came of those words. We rarely had these conversations - thank god - but they were never good when they did happen.

"What about?" I asked cautiously. She brought herself from the doorframe and walked around my desk, leaning on the drawer to the left of my chair. A sigh escape as she looked down at me with those big green eyes.

"I got a job offer," she said, a slight smile coming across her lips. "It's a few steps up from what I'm doing now. It pays twice as well. I'd be the hospitalities coordinator for a major auditorium."

"Honey, that's great!" I said enthusiastically. I took her hands, wrapping my own around them and kissing her fingertips. "Why do you look so down? This is a good thing!" She let her smile flourish for a moment, relieved, I think, at my support, but I could tell there was something brewing under the surface, and her smile quickly faded. "What's the problem, sweetie?"

"It's not in Chicago," she said quietly. Then I understood. I couldn't really afford to leave the hospital where I worked, not for at least a year. And she didn't want to leave if I couldn't come with her.

"Where is it?" I ventured cautiously, mentally crossing my fingers in the hopes it was somewhere I could commute from, but knowing it probably wasn't. Still, if it wasn't too far away, it wouldn't be too hard to continue seeing each other during holidays, or even every couple of weeks. And even though it might take a while, I could possibly get a transfer to wherever it was. I knew I'd have great recommendations if I needed them...

"London."

I sat there in shock, my hands dropping from hers into my lap. London? I had been prepared for New York, or maybe Los Angeles, but outside the country entirely I had not been expecting.

"Oh," I finally managed to choke out. "London... Like, London, England."

"It's a big opportunity," she continued. "It's the Royal Festival Hall. My boss recommended me out of 5 candidates, I was picked out of 200 from all over the country." She sighed heavily. "But, I'll only go if it works for the both of us."

"You mean, if I'll come with you?" I clarified. She pressed her lips together, and I could see she was struggling not to cry.

"Not necessarily," she murmured. She stood and took a few steps to stare out the window behind my desk to the street below, where streetlights were peppering the darkness. "I know you can't leave the hospital right now. I would never ask you to leave on my account." She turned back to me, leaning against the window frame. "But I love you, and the last thing I want to do is leave you, so if you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask, and I will." She attempted to smile. "For us."

She looked at me helplessly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, as though she wanted me to ask her to stay; like I could make her choice easier. I knew what she really wanted, though, and no matter how much it would hurt, I had to do what was best for her. She had been so good to me, it was only natural to return the favour.

"How could you think I would ever ask you to do that?" I pondered, partly to her, partly to myself. I rested my head in my hands and sighed. "I know how hard you've worked, and you deserve this."

"So, you want me to go?"

"No," I said, a slight, sad chuckle before looking up, "That's the last thing I want... but I want you to do what will make you happy. If that's moving to England... I'll support you."

"Charlie - "

"No, Frieda, listen," I interrupted, "I know how much your job means to you. I would never ask you to stay if it meant making you unhappy. You're the best thing that happened to me, so... just... just let me do this for you, okay?"

"I'm so sorry," she said, a full sob escaping. "If there was any other way..."

"Honey," I interrupted once more, but softer this time. "Don't apologize. You've got nothing to apologize for." She shook her head as though she didn't believe me and looked down, crossing her arms again.

Frieda had that quirk. Her personality was so big, yet when she was upset, she would fold her arms, and bow her head, and try to make herself as small as possible. Of course, it may have just been me 'shrinking' her, as she liked to tease.

"Hey," I said, standing up and taking hold of her shoulders gently, trying to smile softly as she looked up at me once more. "I want you to be happy." I kissed her forehead. "I'd do anything for you."

"I wish you could come with me," she sniffed, swiping at her cheek. "It would be so much easier if I could just bring you with me." I looked down at her.

"Come here," I said, opening my arms. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and we stood there for a few moments. "When do you leave?" I finally asked, not really wanting to know, but knowing it was an inevitable evil.

"In a month," she said, her face hidden in the crook of my neck where I could already feel wet tears soaking into my collar. I swallowed back my own tears and cradled the back of her head, my hand tangling in her long red curls.

Almost three years we'd been together. Three very happy years for me. Hell, maybe the happiest. When we'd gotten this apartment together last year, I'd thought it was the happiest I could ever be. It had verified that somehow, for whatever reason, she'd chosen me.

That never happened. Not to me; not to dopey old Charlie Brown, but fate must have been looking the other way when she'd decided that I was what she wanted. I could see the puzzlement, sometimes, in the eyes of people who saw us together. I could just tell they were wondering what someone like her was doing with someone like me, but I'd long since given up caring or questioning. The way I had begun to see it, there must be something pretty damn special about me for someone like Frieda to even look my way.

"Didn't I tell you this would happen?" I said, another sad chuckle rising from me as my eyes grew hot and my throat began to sting from strain. "Every time I get too happy, something bad happens."

"Charlie," Frieda scolded my pessimism softly with a sniffle as she brought her head back up to look at me."It's not forever. I promise. I'll come visit, and you can visit me. And we'll write, and call."

"I love you, you know," I said earnestly, looking down at her. "I know I say it everyday, but you should know... I love you."

"I love you, too, Charlie," she sighed, nuzzling her cheek into my shoulder. "This isn't goodbye, okay? I promise."

But I could already feel my heart breaking.


	10. There Are Places I Remember

All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: I've been working on this chapter for a number of weeks. To me, this is the most important chapter so far, not only because I know at least one of you readers has been looking forward to the event, but also because this is where almost all of the characters are coming together again. It's split into two parts, this being the first, duh, and like "Let It Be", it's told from different POV's. Oh, and since Schroder's never given a last name in the comic, movies, or tv show, I'm naming him after German composer, Johannes Brahms. I think he'd agree with the choice. It's creative licence, so if you don't like it, bite me.

Thanks as ever to those who take the time to review. You guys are my bread and butter.

-Peaches

* * *

_There Are Places I Remember_

_July 1975_

_Part One_

The heat makes people crazy.

This has always been the basis of my dislike of the summer months.

Don't mistake me. I love the warmth of the sun, the golden glow of tanned skin, the cool breeze and the ice cream cones. I love the absence of snow banks, the long, lazy days at the beach, and the nights spent without covers, windows latched open to catch the cool night air.

But I hate the way the too-hot days make the mind feverish, the way the body starts to react to every cool touch almost carnally, and how tempers seem to ignite so easily in the July sun, melting away rhyme and reason.

I hate the way the heat makes people crazy.

But most especially, I hate the way it makes _me_ crazy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

'I love this place,' I mused as I cruised through the streets of my hometown. I felt like an owner, as such. Working where I did, I felt a certain amount of pride in keeping the peace. Preserving, if you will, the honour of the little corner of America I called home. Sometimes I couldn't understand why my siblings and so many of my friends had left the quiet town. Fairly low violent crime rates, great scenery, friendly people...

Of course, sometimes I understood completely. Everyone knew everyone, and anyone who lived in a small town could tell you how annoying and smothering that could be. You couldn't paint your fence without everyone in town finding out and inevitably having an opinion on it, let alone trying to keep more important secrets.

But I loved it, even for all its obvious flaws.

It was six am, and I had just gotten off work. Most men on the force would have gone straight home to sleep after working the 6 to 6 shift, and normally so would I, but this morning I was in the mood to drive my blue Impala leisurely through the downtown streets. I had a full week off now. I would have plenty of time to sleep.

My siblings and their significant others had arrived in town the night before, just before I'd left for work. As much as I'd missed them since Christmas, I'd forgotten how... overwhelming it could be in a full house. Spending a few hours by myself would do me well to survive the next week, at least until the wedding was over and things calmed down.

An old Beatles song came on the radio. I had never particularly liked the Beatles, but the song seemed to suit my mood, so I turned it up as I coasted through the quiet neighbourhoods. Lights were just beginning to flicker on inside suburban homes. The sun was half risen on the eastern horizon, casting long shadows across the ground. I considered going for a bike ride in the evening. I hadn't gone for a ride in what seemed like months.

I elected to get a coffee and some breakfast first, not caring that more caffeine, paired with all the caffeine I already had in my system, would probably make it impossible to sleep until nearly noon. I made my way to a little all night greasy spoon called 'Mandy's'. Their coffee was only passable, but their breakfasts were spot on. I hadn't been there in nearly a month, and suddenly had a craving for their pancakes.

I headed down the main street and pulled into the front lot. There were no other cars in sight and inside looked empty. My stomach grumbled at me to hasten my pace.

I walked in took a seat at the counter. The waitress came rushing out from the backroom, pulling a note pad out of her apron pocket.

"What can I ..." her words trailed of as she look up at me. I balked as well, processing her hair, still long and brown, but stringy and greasy looking; her eyes, doe-like and timid, darting over the features of my face; the quaint curve of her lips, currently expressionless. I forced a soft smile, suddenly feeling very self conscious of my five o'clock shadow and haphazard hair.

"Hello, Lily," I said cautiously. She forced a smile and nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Hey. What can I get you?"

"Uh..." I glanced up at the menu on the wall. "Breakfast number two," I said. She jotted it down and ripped it off of the note pad, slipping it through the window to the kitchen. Without a word, she poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of me.

"Here you go," she muttered, turning to busy herself with the cash register. She opened it and began to count the bills in the till. She took out the twenties and counted them three times before starting on the tens.

I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. She had changed so much in only two years. She had lost so much weight. The uniform she wore was baggy on her, though it was obviously a small. Her face, which had once been soft and smiling, looked drawn and tired, black bags lining her eyes.

"So when did you get back?" I asked quietly, staring into my coffee. She stopped counting and closed the till, sighing heavily.

"Last week," she admitted, smoothing out the front of her apron. "I moved in with a friend instead of back in with my parents."

"Your mom never mentioned you were home."

"I asked her not to tell you. Well, anybody."

"Oh," I said. "So, things didn't work out in Detroit?" I asked, trying not to sound sharp. Then I ruined it by adding: "With Danny?"

Danny Jones had been a friend of ours from high school, and he'd always had a thing for Lily. She and I, after breaking up for a short time before my parents deaths, had gotten back together, much to Danny's disapproval. When I had gone to Providence to attend the Police Academy that autumn, they had started spending more time together. She broke up with me in December, and by January she had taken off to Detroit with him. That had been over two years ago. I hadn't heard from her, but I had heard through the grapevine that they'd had a rough time. I tried not to pay much attention to the gossip channels.

Dwelling on things could make you bitter.

"He left me," she sniffed contemptuously. "A couple of weeks ago. Moved in with some girl he'd been seeing behind my back."

"I'm sorry," I said without much conviction. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"No you're not."

I couldn't argue with that. There was silence between us, nothing but the rattle of dishes in the kitchen and the hum of the florescent lights from above. I drank my coffee, she paced behind the counter, fiddling distractedly with this and that. I finally sighed. "What happened?"

"Like you care," she spat. "Go ahead and bask in the 'I told you so'."

"Lily," I sighed. "I don't give a shit about him, but you should know I never stopped caring about you."

Lily looked away with a pout on her lips, hating me, I was sure. Or, perhaps resenting me. After all, I'd left her here to go to Providence, and I'd never even tried to chase her when she left for Michigan. Maybe her leaving had been a twisted test of some kind.

A test that I had apparently failed.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with what happened," I said, "but I'd like to think that maybe we've grown up a little in the last couple of years. You can hate me if you want, for whatever reason, but I've tried not to hate you." I paused. "Though, Lord knows, I've had reason to." She set her jaw stubbornly, looking me in the eyes with a sort of disdain. I stared back without a flinch. Finally she gave in, crossed her arms under her breasts and looked down at her feet.

"He left when I told him I was pregnant," she murmured, so softly I was almost positive I must have misheard.

"Pregnant?" I asked, dumbfounded. She nodded miserably and covered her stomach with her forearms in shame. My mouth moved several times, groping for something to say.

"He doesn't think it's his," she clarified

"I... shit, Lil, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she said flatly. "Well, don't worry about it, it's not your problem."

"Still, hell of a thing to do on your own."

"I'll survive," she shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. On anyone else, it may have worked, but, though we'd been apart for a long time, I still knew her every mannerism. Her posture, her crossed arms, and especially her eyes, all told me she was terrified.

"Are you... are you keeping it?"

She nodded.

"I considered... you know... but I couldn't bring myself to go through with it." She leaned on the counter, back to me. "Violet knows," she said. "Offered to lend me the money to have it taken care of. When I told her I wanted to have it, she offered to have me move in with her and Franklin. I may take her up on it when I start to show. But for now, I need to work, be on my own for a while."

"Does your mother know?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "With the wedding being next week, she's pretty taken up in seeing that Lucy and Schroder will have everything they need." She smiled at me softly. "I daresay you'll be seeing a bit of her this week."

Another short silence.

"If..." I hesitated. "If you need anything, let me know, okay?"

She stared at me with disbelief.

"How can you do that?" she asked accusingly. I drew a blank.

"Do what?"

"Be so forgiving all the time. It's infuriating."

I smirked and shrugged.

"My brother always preached it to me," I said, taking a drink of the weak coffee I had nearly forgotten I was holding. "I guess it stuck."

She looked away.

"Order's up," came a deep male voice from the kitchen as my pancakes appeared in the window. She picked up the plate and set it in front of me

"I don't need pity, Rerun," she warned, but with a softness to her tone. "Don't offer to help just because you feel bad for me."

"I'm not," I promised. I didn't know if I was lying or not. It didn't matter, it was what she needed to hear at this point.

We said very little as I ate and finished my coffee. The sun had risen completely and was glaring in through the front window when I stood up to leave.

"Good luck, Lily," I said solemnly as I paid my bill. She forced a soft smile.

"I'll see you around, Officer."

I smiled and walked out of the diner, leaving a twenty dollar bill under my plate.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Unca Charlie!"

"Hey, Timmy!" I said, scooping the small boy up by his underarms as he came barrelling at me, curly brown hair bobbing with each step. "How're you doin', big guy?"

"Good!" my godson chimed enthusiastically, wrapping his small arms around my neck as I pulled him into a bear hug and carried him through the front door he'd left wide open. "Come play with me!"

"For goodness sake, Timothy, Uncle Charlie's not even in the door!" Violet came into the porch, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall with an amused smirk on her face. "Why don't we give him a chance to breathe?"

She was beautiful as she ever had been, even only dressed in a pair of slacks and an old red shirt. Her still long brown hair was swept up into a signature ponytail, a single strand of pearls gracing her slender neck for a touch of class.

"He's just excited, Vi," I smiled, setting the boy down. "Why don't you go watch some cartoons and we'll go to the park later, hey buddy?" I suggested to the four year old. "Bugs Bunny is on, isn't he?"

"Okay!" he cried happily, scampering off to the den. I smiled as I watched him hurry off. He'd grown so much in just a few years.

"Where does the time go, Vi?" I asked softly. She smiled at me, opening her arms and wrapping them around me. I hugged her back timidly.

"How have you been, Charlie?"

"I'm holding up," I said as she released me from the hug. "I moved out of the old apartment. Found a little two bedroom house just outside the city." I shrugged. "Needed a fresh start away from the memories."

"Understandable," Violet nodded, then turned on her heel. "Come on in, I'll make us some coffee, we can catch up."

I followed Violet into the kitchen and took a seat at her kitchen table.

Violet kept an immaculate kitchen. I was always impressed and amused with the way every appliance was always gleaming in its proper place, the way there was never a crumb of bread or the jammy fingerprints of a four year old on the refrigerator, and the way she could cook a four course meal without ever letting on a pot or pan had ever been dirtied. The den, the bedrooms, the bathroom, or the sitting room could be wiped out be a tornado, but Violet's kitchen would survive in pristine condition, I was sure.

"Thanks for babysitting, Charlie, really," she said.

"Not a problem, you know that, Vi," I assured her. I was looking forward to sending time with my godson. I hadn't seen him since the previous summer. "Where's Frank to today?" I asked.

"Out getting his tux fitted for Wednesday," she said, filling a copper kettle with water and placing it on the stove. "Schroder picked him up a little while ago and I think their going out for lunch afterward, so I don't know when he'll be home. Schroder and Lucy got in last night and came over for a few drinks. So did Linus and Sally." She looked at the clock. "Actually, I have to start getting ready soon." Lucy was taking her bridesmaids out for lunch in an hour.

"I'll bet Lucy's been a barrel of laughs," I said smirking. Violet leaned against the counter next to the stove and crossed her arms, an amused look on her face.

"Who, Lucy?" she said innocently. "Why, she's as docile as a kitten, like always."

"A kitten," I scoffed. "Maybe in her sleep." Violet giggled and went to the cupboard, pulling down two mugs from one, a container of instant coffee from another. She went about gathering the other things necessary for coffee and placed them neatly on the table in front of me.

"She's actually not to bad," Violet allowed as she set a spoon next to my mug. "But she'll start to crack soon, and I'll have to take over during her lapses of sanity." She sat in the chair across from me. "Being the matron of honour and all. I give her one more day before it hits her."

"When did it hit you?" I asked. She thought for a moment, then smiled.

"The day of the rehearsal," she said nostalgically. "When we were going over the march down the aisle. Dad and me started toward the front of the church, and there was Franklin at the alter with the priest, Schroder and Rerun on one side, Lucy and Lily on the other. Franklin watched me coming down the aisle. He winked at me, and that's when it hit me that it was really going to happen, after all the bullshit we had to go through with the war, and the illness, and the trouble finding a priest... It was finally going to happen."

"Wow," I said as she got up to tend to the now whistling kettle on the stove. "The sounds intense." She smiled as she poured hot water into each of our mugs before placing the kettle back on a cool stove element. She came back to the table and sat down, mixing her coffee as I did. From the den we could hear the distinct sounds of Daffy Duck bickering with Bugs Bunny, followed by Timothy's hysterical laughter.

"I never thought it'd be so overwhelming," she said. "But then, I was only 21, everything about life was overwhelming." She looked up at me from across the table and smiled, lifting her mug to mouth level and resting her elbows on the table. "It's amazing how much we grow up in just a few years. And in five more years, we'll look back at today and wonder how we could have been so naive."

"That's the truth," I said sadly. Violet caught my tone and looked at me inquisitively over the edge of her mug, taking a sip.

"Something the matter, Charlie?" she asked as she set the mug back in front of her, already knowing, but wanting me to say it myself. Even when we were younger, she had always wanted me to recognized my problems, though she'd grown more tactful of letting me figure out on my own as of the last 15 years or so, rather than simply yelling at me on the street or playground as she used to.

"Like you don't know," I chuckled. She smiled conspicuously, but said nothing. I sighed. "I just miss her."

"I know, I understand," Violet confirmed. And she did know what it was like to miss someone, I realized. She'd been left behind to miss Franklin during the war. Of course, there was always the promise that, should he survive, he'd be coming back home. I, however, was much more sure of Frieda's ultimate survival, but lived with the knowledge she would never come home for more than a few weeks, if at all.

"I was going to propose," I told Violet, whose eyebrows rose in shock. She was the first person I'd confessed this to, and would probably be the only one.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she commiserated.

"I was waiting for her birthday." I took a drink of the coffee, grimacing as I realized I hadn't put any sugar in and reaching for the respective bowl. "I can't decide if it's a good thing I didn't ask, or a bad thing."

"How so?"

"If I'd asked her and she said yes, it would have meant one of two things: either she didn't accept the job offer, stayed and married me, but been unhappy for not taking the job, or she'd have accepted the job, broken it off with me, and broken my heart a little worse in the process." I finished stirring in my sugar and took another sip. "On the one hand, I made her choice a little easier by not having asked her. On the other hand... I made her choice a little easier by not having asked her."

Violet smiled at my irony and put down her cup. She leaned back in her chair, looking at me thoughtfully.

"How long has she been gone?"

"Nine months."

"Have you seen anybody else?"

"No one."

"Why not?"

"I'm still in love with her."

"You were in love with me too, once, but you managed to move past that."

I paused, and it was my turn to stare at her in shock. There was a stuttering silence as I sat dumbly across from her. She looked at me, nervous it seemed, then looked down into her coffee.

"How long have you known?" I asked finally, trying not to sound too much like an idiot.

"Since we were 12," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice as she thought back. "God, I was so selfish back then. I knew in the back of my mind that I could... I don't know... Keep you on the sidelines in case I ever needed a friend." She looked at me with sad, honest eyes. "By the time I was 15 and I realized what kind of a bitch I was, it was too late to tell you, because we had become friends, and I couldn't hurt you like that. It was easier just to keep pretending I didn't know."

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

"I didn't expect that you would come to my wedding," she continued. "And when you did show up, part of me expected that you'd be the one to object to it."

"Vi," I muttered. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"I know," she said, reaching across the table, placing her hand on mine. "Can you forgive me?" she asked, her voice taut.

My secret was out. It had never actually been a secret at all, I realized. All of that time spent brooding and lamenting my lack of fortune, and she had known the whole time. Hell, played off of my feelings for her own gain. All of the nights - no, years - spent living on the dream that she would one day realize I loved her and give me a chance to prove it...

And yet, somehow, it didn't matter. It didn't even hurt. In fact, I found myself smiling at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. It all seemed so... juvenile. So very high school. After all, hadn't it all worked out in the end? She'd found the man she loved, and I'd spent three years with an amazing woman I otherwise wouldn't have. And, in the end, weren't we still friends? Didn't I have a godson?

I looked back at Violet and adjusted my hand from under hers, placing mine on top and squeezing hers lightly.

"You know I do," I said, and a look of relief washed over her face. She leaned back in her chair again, pulling her hand back to grip her coffee cup once more. She took a timid sip and smiled at me.

"You're a good man, Charlie Brown."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

All I wanted was a sandwich.

I thought longingly of a pastrami on rye with Swiss cheese as I descended the stairs from my room. I'd gotten home at seven thirty and had gone straight to bed. I hadn't eaten since my awkward breakfast out and now that it was nearly 1 o'clock in the afternoon, my stomach growled at me hungrily.

I was a large guy. I wasn't used to going any length of time without food.

"Hello?" I called, noting how quiet the place seemed to be. My voice echoed in the empty rooms, and I was left to assume no one was home. My sister was taking her bridesmaids to lunch, that much I knew. Schroder was spending the afternoon with Franklin, as far as I was aware, and would be home for supper. But where were Linus and Sally? They hadn't mentioned having any plans.

Entering the kitchen, intent on raiding the refrigerator, I was startled by the appearance a figure out of the corner of my eye. I jumped and spun to meet the form, flushing red with embarrassment to find it was only Sally.

"You scared the hell outta me," I chuckled once I caught my breath. I turned, continuing toward the refrigerator. "Why didn't you answer when I called out?" I asked.

She didn't respond, so I turned to look at her.

She was sitting at the end of the table, nursing a cup of coffee with one hand, contemplatively leaning her chin in her other. Her legs were tucked up under her, bare feet revealing bright pink toenails in contrast to her pale white skin of her feet and legs, which were exposed by a pair of yellow capris not reaching far past her knees.

"Sal?" I asked. "Are you okay?" I abandoned my quest for sustenance and pulled out the chair nearest hers, setting myself down in it carefully. I leaned forward, trying to peek at her face, which her long blonde hair was currently covering carelessly. "Sal?" I asked again.

Finally, she let out a sigh and looked up at me. Her cheeks were red, smears of blueish-black mascara where tears had been wiped away. Her eyes were still watery and bloodshot.

"What's wrong?" I asked, now very concerned. She let out a crass chortle and picked up her coffee cup, swirling the brown liquid for a moment before taking a long, slow drink.

"Have you ever..." she started, putting down her cup and pausing. "Have you ever felt you've had just about as much as you can take?"

"What do you mean?"

She sighed again, another ironic chuckle escaping her pale pink mouth. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, as though unsure of what she was even talking about.

"I don't even know anymore," she confessed. "There's too much going on and not enough time to process any of it."

"You mean the wedding?" I asked. She shrugged and took another long drink from her mug. I briefly wondered if it was just coffee, but shook the thought from my mind. Sally was trustworthy, and hadn't had another relapse since getting out of rehab, so what right did I have to doubt her?

"More than that. Linus and I have been fighting lately," she said in a voice just above a whisper. "A lot more than normal. It feels like... like he doesn't – " she cut herself off as her eyes began to well again with tears.

"It's okay, Sal," I said softly, placing my hand over hers on the table, "You don't have to explain if it's too hard."

"God," she shuddered. "I'm just so... frustrated!" Her voice raised momentarily, but faded with her last word. She rested her thin arms on the table top and set her forehead down. "I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened today to get you so upset?"

"We were... we were cleaning up from breakfast, talking about the wedding," she started, bringing her head up. "I just... he was saying how weird it was that Lucy was getting married, and I teased him that people will probably say it's weird when we get married, and he... he said 'you mean if.'"

"Ouch," I muttered. Sally shuddered another sigh and nodded.

"I asked what he meant by 'if'," she continued, "But he said he didn't mean anything by it, and to just let it drop." She chuckled again, softer than before. "But you know me, I started thinking... and I started convincing myself of all kinds of things..."

"Like what?" I asked. I knew that a train of thought could be a dangerous thing, especially in the mind of someone with doubts.

"Like he's only with me out of pity, or to not upset Charlie," she sighed. "That he's seeing someone, that he stopped loving me." She paused to swirl the last of her coffee around in the bottom of the mug. "Maybe that he doesn't love me at all."

"Sally, come one now," I said gently. "You know Linus loves you. I think you're just reading too far into something he probably didn't even realize he said."

"Maybe," she muttered, then looked around the kitchen, as though just realizing where she was. "What time is it?"

"About one," I said, glancing at my watch. "Why?"

"Linus left around ten," she said. "I'm just wondering where he might have gone."

"Probably to see Charlie or something," I assured her. "You don't need to worry about Linus, trust me." I smiled as a memory came back to me. "You know, when he was nine, he ran away from home when mom tried to make him clean his room. We found him at gramma's place eating cookies."

Sally smiled. A real smile, however small and brief it may have been.

"You wanna get out of here for a little while?" I asked suddenly. She looked at me thoughtfully.

"Like to where?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "We could grab lunch, go to the beach, maybe just take a ride up the highway." I smiled. "You seem like you need to get out of the house for a while, you've been cooped up in here all day, haven't you?"

She looked hesitant for a moment, glancing around the kitchen undecidedly.

"Come on, don't worry about supper, you need a break. We'll leave a note."

She nodded finally, swiping at the dried mascara stains on her cheeks.

"Okay, just let me clean myself up," she said, slowly standing and stretching. The thin pink tanktop she wore rode up her torso, revealing her smooth white stomach before she dropped her arms. "I'll be down in a few minutes." With that, she left the kitchen. I heard her footsteps on the stairs, then overhead in the bedroom she shared with Linus.

"Sounds good," I murmured to myself before standing and likewise making my way upstairs to wash my face and pull on something halfway presentable.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You should apologize."

"I'm not going to apologize for something I didn't mean to do."

"You don't mean to bump into people, but you apologize when you do, don't you? It's called civility."

Charlie was making sense again. I hated when he did that.

We sat on the park bench, sun beating down from the cloudless blue sky. If not for the slight breeze wisping gently across the grass, the heat would have been unbearable. My own tee shirt, thin as it may have been, felt heavy and clung to my skin. In only a few hours it had reached a nearly record high temperature.

Timothy sat in the sandbox some 15 feet away, building a sandcastle with a little blond girl. The blond's caretaker, a young latina woman with her long black hair in a bun, sat reading on the bench opposite Charlie and I. Every few minutes she would look up to check on her charge, then glance up at us and smile before looking back at her book.

It had been completely by chance that I had run into Charlie as he walked Timothy to the park. I had been walking aimlessly, with some level of ire, through Violet and Franklin's neighbourhood, kicking at the cigarette butts on the sidewalk when I spotted them walking and decided to join them, rather than stew any longer. I had already been through town, had stopped and sat for the better part of an hour at a coffee shop, and had been sitting on the old wall, hoping for answers.

"I just don't understand why she took it so hard," I sighed. "I really only meant that it was... expensive... or that it's not a good time right now.. or something."

"Really?" Charlie said, a faint humour in his tone. "You don't sound like you're sure what you meant at all."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're the best person to be talking to about this," I admitted with some frustration.

"Well, I'm probably the most qualified," Charlie smirked. "But I am also her older brother and completely within my right to beat the hell out of you if you hurt her."

"Thanks Charlie," I grunted. "Really, you're a great help."

"Hey," he said, nudging my elbow. "At least I don't charge you like Lucy did."

I chuckled at the memory of Lucy's advice over the years from the little wooden lemonade stand she called a psychiatry booth. How many nickels did I give her just to have her clock me one in the nose for complaining about her?

"Hard to believe she's really getting married, huh?" I said with a hint of nostalgia. Charlie sighed next to me and leaned forward, arms rested on his knees. He looked out at Timothy, who was passing a little red bucket to the blond girl.

"Where does the time go?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was looking for an answer or not. I chose to remain silent.

"Violet knew, you know," he said after a spell. I gave him a questioning sideways glance. "That I was in love with her," he explained. I snickered and Charlie looked over at me. "What?" he asked.

"Charlie, everybody knew," I said with at chuckle. "Hell, anyone who saw you two together knew you were crazy for her. You must know you're utterly transparent. You wear that heart of yours on your sleeve."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess part of me knew she knew. Or maybe wanted her to know."

"And you let her lead you around like that anyway? I mean, when we were younger. She wised up and treated you better in high school, but still."

"Maybe that part of me likes being used," he sighed. "Makes me feel like I have some purpose. But anyway, at least all of it is over and done with."

"Yeah," I said, preparing to cross into dangerous territory. "So, have you heard from Frieda?"

"Her last letter came three weeks ago," he said flatly. "I wrote back. I'm hoping a new one will have come when I get back to Chicago."

"How are you dealing with it all, man?" I asked. "Its been, what, almost a year?"

"Nine months," Charlie corrected me. "And I'm doing better than I expected. I didn't think I'd be able to hold it together this long."

"Getting any easier?"

"I suppose."

We were quiet, nothing to listen to but the children playing on the equipment and the chit chat of mothers nearby.

"Do you really think I should go apologize?" I asked, defeated. I could almost hear Charlie smirking.

"Yes, I do."

"For what?"

"Unca Charlie, come push me!" Timothy demanded, already scampering away from the sandbox and toward the swingset. His little blond friend walked away, hand in hand with her latina nanny, waving with her free hand. Timothy waved back, grinning ear to ear as he ran. Charlie rose from the bench, raising a hand in so long to the little blond's nanny, who smiled and blushed, quickening her pace.

I rose as well, following Charlie to where Timothy sat on the swing set, feet dangling above the ground.

"Just say you were being insensitive and explain that your comment had nothing to do with _wanting _to marry her, but with being _able_ to marry her," he said professionally. "You know, like you mentioned; money, timing, et cetera."

"Think that will work?"

"It couldn't hurt," he said, holding out his hand. "Five cents, please."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Anybody home?" I called out into the house as I entered, shutting the door with an unceremonious thud. I unbuttoned my shirt and peeled it down off of my shoulders, cool air hitting my bare arms. The thin white shirt I had worn underneath was much more bearable than the polyester dress shirt I had elected to wear earlier in the day.

"Is that you, babe?" came Lucy's voice from upstairs.

"I didn't think you'd be home from lunch yet," I called back, setting my keys on the hallway table and taking the stairs two at a time. "It's only two."

"I dropped Violet off about ten minutes ago," she was saying as I entered our bedroom. She was rummaging around in the closet, her back to me. Her long black hair was plated in a braid, hanging down the centre of her back. "I just got in myself."

"Where is everyone?" I wondered aloud.

"Charlie was out with Timothy, on his way back to Violet's. He said he'd be by around 7 for drinks," she said, placing her hands on her hips and surveying the closet. "Linus was with Charlie, said he was going to visit Charlie's parents for a bit. Said he'd be home for supper. Rerun and Sally left a note saying they would be back around four."

"And what are you doing?" I asked, noticing the assortment of clothing strewn along the end of the bed.

"Hanging up everything we're wearing on Wednesday so it doesn't wrinkle too badly," she explained, grabbing one of my shirts off the end of the bed and slipping it onto a hanger. She turned back to the closet to hang it up. "I don't want to have to iron these Tuesday night or Wednesday morning."

"You know, I can think of more constructive ways to spend our time," I said. "Alone in the house... all afternoon... no one to bother us..."

"Oh, I'll bet you can," she said, with a smirk. "But I think you're forgetting how much work has to be done before Wednesday. I still need to go to my final fitting on Monday, pack our things for the trip, meet with the caterer, the priest..."

I crept up behind her as her back was turned and wrapped my arms around her waist, nuzzling my head into the crook of her neck. The blue tanktop she wore left her shoulders exposed, a fact which I took advantage of by leaving a trail of kisses from just below her ear, down her neck, to the curve of her shoulder. Her arms dropped limply as she leaned into me.

"You need to relax," I purred into her ear. "And I know exactly how."

"Schroder," she groaned with protest, "this isn't fair."

"Remember how much fun it was to sneak around up here when we were 17?" I said cheekily. "Trying to be quiet, not wake anyone?" I started to sway her back and forth with a gentle rhythm.

"I remember," she admitted grudging, tone of voice coloured with a smile.

"And remember how great it used to be when we got the house to ourselves for an afternoon?"

"But there's so much to do," she moaned half-heartedly. I grinned and pulled her away from the closet toward the centre of the room.

"Work later," I said. I turned her around to face me and slipped my fingers into her belt loops, pulling her closer. "Play now."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I'm just not sure about anything anymore," I sighed, bending down and picking up a smooth grey rock. I turned it over in my hands a few times before pitching it out into the waves. I shielded my eyes from the sun and watched it arch high into the air before descending into the blue-grey water.

"You've still got quite an arm," Rerun said as we continued along down the seashore, shoes in tow. We had driven out to one of the beaches near Narragansett, where my parents had taken Charlie and I as children. I remembered coming here to the cottage, first as a child, then later on weekend trips with the older kids when they'd let me tag along, and later bringing my own friends out here for parties. It was a beautiful spot, with a long sandy beach stretching along the sea's boundary, smooth sun-bleached rocks scattered along the tide line. Mom and dad still came out a few times a year.

We walked barefoot along the hot sand. Rerun looked down contemplatively, watching as a crab scuttled across his path. We had walked through the more public area, where kids built sandcastles and mothers read paperback novels under colourful beach umbrellas. We were now far down the shore, umbrellas little more than colourful dots in the distance.

"If this was seven years ago, I'd probably hit up someone for a bag of something really strong," I chuckled morbidly. "Sometimes I wish it was still that easy. Running away from things seems so much more tempting than facing them." I found it odd to be talking about this with Rerun, mostly because he was a cop. He, however, didn't seem to be judging me. I appreciated that.

"You don't mean that," he told me. "Even if it's hard, you and I both know it's worth it."

"Yeah," I sighed, half believing him. "I don't know, the arguing just takes so much out of me."

"What do you guys fight about?" he asked. "I mean, maybe it's normal stuff."

I stopped at a large piece of driftwood. I sat on the sun-and-salt bleached log, facing the water, digging my toes into the warm sand until I felt the cool dampness underneath.

"Different things," I said. "But mostly trust." I looked out on the water, watching tiny pinprick seagulls swooping down to the whitecaps on the waves further out where the blue of the sky blended into the blue of the water. "Sometimes I feel like he's not telling me everything, like he doesn't trust me, or he's keeping secrets."

"That just sounds like you're letting the little things get to you," Rerun reasoned, taking a seat next to me on the log. The dry wood shifted and cracked a little under his weight. "I mean, like I said before, he probably doesn't even know he's doing anything to upset you."

Rerun, I noticed quite suddenly, had gotten bigger, if that was possible. After puberty, he had shot up to 6'2", passing my slight frame easily. He had never been large, neither he, Linus or Lucy ever having so much as an ounce of fat on them, but I had not noticed before now how broad his shoulders and chest had become since his police training the last few years. His arms had also thickened with muscle, which I could see now as his loose tee shirt billowed in the sea breeze.

I felt so small next to him, compared to Linus, who was much thinner and did not quite reach six feet. And much paler. Neither Linus or myself were much for the outdoors, whereas Rerun still played basketball and biked fairly regularly, proof showing in his tanned face and arms.

They were both so different, I mused to myself as he dug a small hole in the sand with a stick of driftwood. Linus was academic, looking to books and education to guide him, and religion to comfort him. Rerun was athletic, relieving stress with sore muscles and sweat. Even as a child, Rerun had always been moving, whether playing with neighbourhood dogs, or biking, or playing basketball, or any number of other things, it was usually quite hard to keep tabs on the boy.

"I try not to," I said. "I really do try, but sometimes it feels like we're stuck in routine." I thought for a moment. "Or, that he's happy to be stuck there and I want more."

"More meaning marriage?" he asked casually. "Kids? A house? That kind of more?"

"We've tried to talk about that," I sighed. "But it never seems like a good time. The apartment is fine right now, but if we ever wanted a family, we'd have to get a bigger place." I paused. "He doesn't like talking about kids just yet. It's hard enough to get him to talk about marriage."

"You want kids though?" he asked. "I mean, you'll make a great mother."

I blushed a little. I loved my job, teaching first grade at a primary school in Providence, but I sometimes felt that maternal tug to have one of my own. When I saw the children drawing pictures of their families, making mothers day and fathers day cards out of cardboard and macaroni, or running to jump into their parents arms when they were picked up at the end of the day; it was all very hard on the motherly instinct in me.

"I do want kids," I confirmed. We sat, not saying anything for a long time, enjoying the sun as it beat down, doing battle with the cool wind that swept off the water.

I looked over at Rerun, his thick, messy black hair ruffling slightly in the breeze. He'd grown quite handsome, I allowed myself. He had the same heart-shaped face as Lucy and Linus, hairline set in a point at the top of his forehead. His eyes, soft and green like his siblings, were closed, his head tipped back to absorb the heat of the sun, his strong jaw pointing out toward the water.

His nose, I noticed, was slightly crooked, taking him out of the realm of impossibly attractive, and placing him at a wonderful crossroad between boy-next-door and Hollywood.

"We should head back soon," he said after a moment. He looked over to where I was still studying his face, and for a moment he caught my eye. "Are you okay?" he asked.

For a moment, I didn't know. A strange feeling, so overpowering it set my stomach tipping uncomfortably, washed up over me. It felt alarmingly foreign for a moment, until it began to very suddenly feel familiar. It was like the sting of withdrawal mixed with the excitement of preparing your drug of choice, knowing that it was only a matter of moments before it would be pulsing through your system, easing the pain, making you feel whole again. The oasis of sin and inebriation after wandering through the desert of piety and abstinence.

It was so overpowering, it took me a moment to gather my senses. I hadn't felt that sting in a very long time, and I had no idea why it had so suddenly come over me.

"Sally?" Rerun asked, his voice laced with panic. "Are you alright?" He had turned his upper body to face me and placed his hand on my bare shoulder gently.

"I'm fine," I whispered, meaning it for the first time in months.

And that's when I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his.


End file.
